~Next Day, The Coronation Hall~

Sigyn stood up on her toes, trying to see how far the crowd of Asgardians stretched beyond the boundary of the coronation hall.  Not that hall was a grand enough description for this place.  She couldn’t help but gawk at her surroundings.

Dead center within the palatial stadium that formed the entire foundation of the palace, a shinier and larger replica of Odin’s throne stood proud.  The official throne room where Odin did most of his work could, at most, hold a thousand bodies, which wasn’t nearly grand enough for an Asgardian coronation, so they were crowning Thor here instead.  She rolled her eyes.  Only in Asgard would a thousand guests be too small.  This impossibly huge arena she found herself in had to house at least ten times that.

“By Hel, the entire realm must be in attendance,” she mumbled to herself, nervously playing with the ends of her hair.

Frigga had told her to stand in the inner circle, which was reserved for nobility and foreign dignitaries.  She felt neither dignified nor noble, but if the queen wanted her to be with the fancy people, then she would do as she was told.  At least she wasn’t alone.  Sif and Thor’s friends were there, too.

“Tis a good thing it is not raining,” Sif said, looking past the sea of Asgardians dressed in their finest garb to the cloudless sky as she adjusted her new polished silver vambraces. 

Fandral held a mirror, fixing imagined flyaways on his perfect coif.

“Heimdall would only need to cover the open-air rim with the palace’s transparent shield,” he said, shrugging.

Sigyn side-eyed him. “And what of those who are not within the shield’s boundaries?” she asked, pointing to the thousands gathered on the grounds surrounding the royal family’s golden castle.

“Oh, dearest Sigyn,” he chuckled and wrapped one arm around her waist, sweeping the other across the scene. “If only you could see that far, it must be difficult with those delicate Vanir eyes, you would note that our lovely peasants have fastened hooded cloaks about their shoulders.”

She shrugged out of his hold, glaring at him. “My eyesight is excellent, thank you,” she practically growled.

“Hogun,” she said, turning to the grim warrior and scoffing. “You are of Vanaheim, as well.  How can you stand him?  I would leave red handprints on his face regularly for all his racist and, might I add, misogynistic comments.  Of course, a more effective discipline would be to simply destroy his mirror.”

Hogun chuckled quietly, a rare thing indeed. “I cannot recall when I last granted Fandral my full attention outside of sparring,” he said softly, winking at her. “Those of Vanaheim are skilled at tuning out buzzing flies.”

Fandral rolled his eyes. “Considering your realm is full of those nasty little bugs, you should be,” he said, pausing to kiss her cheek. “I’ve yet to see so much as a gnat in Asgard, however.”

She made a face, swiping her now wet cheek with the back of her hand.

“And I shall simply steal one of Loki’s many mirrors,” he added and poked her nose. “There is none vainer than your dark prince.”

Crossing her arms, she gave him a once over and shrugged. “It does him better than it does you, clearly,” she said simply.

His smirk was quickly transforming into something resembling a sneer. “Once again, the poor quality of your Vanir eyes fails you.”

“I swear, Fandral,” she hissed, hands fisting at her sides, fighting to control her anger. “I will claw out your eyes if you-”

“Children, please!” Volstagg groaned, cutting her off and pulling Fandral who was still glaring at her by the elbow to the steps below the throne. “Come, we must go to our places.  The queen and Silvertongue are coming!”

Breaking her glaring contest with Fandral, she turned to watch Loki escort his mother down the long aisle to the throne. Eyes blown wide with admiration, she nearly stopped breathing.  He was in full regalia armor (minus his horned helmet), his green cape flowing behind him.  The previously silent crowd erupted into cheers for their adored queen and her mischievous son.  She applauded along with the crowd, trying to keep her composure, despite wanting to grab him for a kiss as he passed.

He looked just …. what word could describe him?  Delicious?  No, that wasn’t good enough.  Delectable?  Getting closer.  He looked like godsdamn dessert.  She saw him bite his lip and smile, and she knew he’d heard it as he took his place on the steps, below his mother and above Sif.

Odin appeared at the end of the aisle, and everyone solemnly bowed as he passed.  Once at the throne, he nodded, and Thor entered, thrusting Mjölnir in the air, a silver winged helmet adorning his golden head.  The ensuing roar of applause and heralding from the proud citizens literally hurt her ears, causing her to wince.  She had to stop herself from covering them.  Rolling her eyes at Thor’s arrogant display, she trained her eyes on Loki.  

Despite him being a good actor, she saw pain in his face.  No one else would have noticed it, but considering how much time she’d spent studying his face, it was easy for her to see.  Of course, she could also feel it.  Feel the rejection, the sorrow, the disappointment.  The utter sense of failure.  She hung her head and closed her eyes.  This was awful.  She wanted to run up there and just hug him.

Then something changed.  Sorrow turned to excitement.  Disappointment to anticipation.  Confusion creasing her brow, she looked on as a small smile appeared on his face.  Was he … happy?  As Thor came to the bottom of the golden stairs and knelt before his father, a slightly blurred image, almost like a mirage, appeared in her mind: Out of the shadows, within the weapons vault, three Jotuns appeared, charging toward a transparent box that sat atop a tall stone pedestal.  Blue light swirled within the box.

She recognized the box.  Loki had shown it to her once. It was the Jotuns’ power source, the Casket of Ancient Winters, and it had been taken long ago by Odin.  The image continued: Lifting the pulsing casket, one of the frost giants turned to run, but a blast of bright fiery light shot him in the gut, wrenching the powerful box free of his grip.

She shook her head, trying to understand what she had just seen.  Then it clicked.  Frost giants.  Jotunheim.  Loki.  She was only vaguely aware of her actual surroundings.  Thor was repeating an oath spoken by his father, but she could barely hear his words.  She was too busy staring at Loki, horrified.

What have you done?

Her silent question rang in his ears, and he raised his eyes to look for her.  He found her easily.  One hand on her mouth, her eyes glistened.  He locked eyes with her, jaw clenched, his body tensing visibly.  His eyes glazed over, and everything that wasn’t Sigyn blurred.  He could see her struggling to hold back her tears, and there was nothing he could do.  He desperately wanted to run to her.  To tell her that it would be alright.  That the Jotuns wouldn’t hurt them.  That everything was under control.  That he was just sparing Asgard from a foolhardy king. 

He forced his body to stay still though, despite feeling every ounce of fear and anger that was boiling over within her.  Honestly, it was the anger part that he was most concerned about.  Sucking in his cheeks, he discreetly eyed the many torches throughout the hall.  To his relief, the flames hadn’t grown in height.

Yet.

He then realized that Odin had stopped saying the oath.

What is my father doing?

“Frost giants,” the old man whispered.

Loki’s eyes blew wide.  Shit, this was really happening.

Sigyn’s other hand flew to her mouth at the booming sound of Gungnir hitting the foot of the throne.  It was the Allfather’ s silent command for the Destroyer, the fire breathing twenty-foot-tall metal man and lethal protector of the vault, to kill the invading Jotuns.

Stunned by their king’s words and actions, the crowd’s confused murmurs grew to a panicked roar, and hundreds of soldiers pushed against them, attempting to calm them and bring order.  Odin angrily descended the stairs, ordering his best guards to the vault.  Thor took off after his father, but someone grabbed his cape, forcing him to halt in his pursuit.  

Turning, ready to punch whoever had grabbed him, he growled, “Dammit!  Who-”

His anger ceased immediately at the sight of Sif.

“I’m coming with you,” she said sternly, removing a leather strap from her formal armor to pull back her long hair.

Thor shook his head, pulling her against his chest in a tight embrace.

“Not this time, Sif,” he said, wincing as her face fell, but there was no time for apologies, so he pulled away, handing her his kingly helmet before turning once again to run after his father.

Sigyn fought to get through the chaotic swarm of bodies, but it was to no avail.  She was strong, but not that strong, and she was being pushed from all sides.  This was insane.  She was going to either suffocate or be trampled.  Mercifully, there were a few shorter Vanir nobles around her, so she could see over them to find an exit.  Blowing her hair out of her face, she scanned the crowd for an opening.

Then someone’s elbow slammed right into her solar plexus, and she doubled over, gasping for breath, the pain in her chest radiating out to all her limbs.  The tears were now flowing freely, and she was quickly losing hope for getting out of this place without a serious injury.  Now that she was bent over, she was, to her horror, being pushed further down and would soon be on the ground under foot.

Oh gods, stand back up!

But she couldn’t.  Not only was the pain in her chest making it hard to catch a breath, but the fire under her skin combined with the crowd pushing in from all directions was going to give her heat stroke.  Just as her vision was about to fade to black, she heard a deep voice growling “Get off her!” followed by the sound of someone being punched, and then two strong arms came around her waist, wrenching her free from the crowd.  Despite being wrapped in his arms, Loki’s voice sounded far away.

“Sig!” he yelled, moving one hand up to her cheek.  Her eyes were still closed, and she felt far too hot, her breathing shallow.

Oh no.

“Sig, darling,” he hoisted her up further against his chest and moved his hand to the back of her neck, the ache in his chest growing the longer she remained unconscious. “Come on, wake up!”

It was the coolness of his hand on the back of her neck that brought her back, and her eyes fluttered open to see Loki, his green eyes red and shining with tears, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Loki?” she said, voice hoarse as she blinked rapidly. 

“You’re alright,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers.

Out of her periphery, she could see everyone was still rushing around, shrieking and crying.  This was scary.  She focused on the sound of Loki’s breathing and the feel of his arms around her to help ground her.  Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him as close as she could.  Despite the madness around her, she felt safe right here.  That feeling didn’t last long.

“I must go,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple, his arms loosening their hold on her.

Her jaw dropped as she pulled back to look him in the eyes. “What?  Loki, you cannot leave me in this madhouse!  Wherever you’re going, let me come with-”

“No, Sig,” he growled and crushed his mouth against hers.

“Go to my mother,” he said, pulling away from the kiss.  He pointed behind her. “She’s not but ten feet away.  Everything will be fine, but I must go!”

Kissing her one more time, he pushed her back and turned on his heel.  In a flash of green, he dashed after his father and brother, catching up to them quickly with dozens of soldiers on his tail.

---

~Moments Later in the Weapons Vault~

Breathing through his mouth, Loki put a hand under his nose as he stepped carefully around the guards’ corpses frozen solid in their own blood on the floor of the weapons vault.  He watched with steely eyes as the Destroyer returned to its post behind a wall of spiked metal gratings at the front of the vault behind the casket’s pillar.  No doubt the Destroyer had done its job since three frost giants lay dead at the base of the pillar with the casket next to them.

He felt a bit sick, and he blew out an unsteady breath as Odin carefully lifted the casket back to its rightful place.  There was no way Odin could possibly guess that he had anything to do with this, right?  Staring at the old man, he straightened his shoulders and listened to his thoughts.  He breathed a sigh of relief when all he found was confusion and anger aimed at the Jotuns only. 

Closing off his mind to his father’s, he refocused on shielding his own from Sigyn.  No doubt she was trying to see what was happening through the bond.  He allowed her to see only the three scorched frost giants, not the image of the unexpected Æsir casualties.  He scowled, remembering his own words—Just a bit of fun.  Well, fun only applied to a few dead frost giants ruining Thor’s big day.  Mauled bodies of Asgardian soldiers were not part of the plan.  Wrinkling his nose, he looked down at his hands.  The blood on them wouldn’t wash away with water.  No.  This blood would stay with him.

Kicking the closest Jotun corpse, Thor growled and let his hammer drop to the ground heavily.  Odin sighed as he bent over the burnt body of a frost giant, examining the blue flesh.

“Well,” he said, turning to his sons, “this seems a most opportune time for a lesson.  As king,” he looked at Thor specifically, “what would you do, my son?”

“Send our army to Jotunheim, of course,” Thor said without hesitation.  He looked to Loki for confirmation.  After a stunt like this, surely diplomacy had flown out the window.

Rolling his eyes, Loki cleared his throat.  Yes, he’d been right to stop the coronation.  His brother was a fool.

Thor scoffed at his brother’s silence.

“If you have something to say, then say it,” he said, crossing his arms.

Letting his eyelids fall shut, Loki dropped his head and laughed mirthlessly.

“War with Jotunheim, Thor?  Really?  Father has a truce with Laufey.”

“Truce?” Thor said through his teeth, gesturing to the dead guards. “This doesn’t look like a truce to me!”

Odin raised his hand, silencing his sons before the argument to escalate to something more barbaric.

“Calm down, Thor,” he said with a sigh.  Much like Loki, he was disturbed that Thor’s first decision was war.

“A king must keep his head and not make such rash decisions,” he reminded his first son, not hiding the disappointment in his voice.

Thor’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor.  He looked at the carnage around him.  Was this not an act of war?  He couldn’t believe his father was blatantly ignoring the threat of a Jotun invasion.  Was he the only one using his head at all?  Who was to say that Laufey wouldn’t send his entire army next time?  And how had they even gotten past Heimdall in the first place?!  Did no one else find it more than a little alarming?!

“Loki,” Odin said, not even looking at his second son, “go inform your mother that the casket is safe and that the frost giants were slain.”

Clenching his jaw at being dismissed so flippantly, Loki nodded.  What else was there to do?  Clearly his father did not care to hear his opinions or suggestions.  It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d felt the sting of his father’s disregard.  He knew without a doubt that it wouldn’t be the last, either.

“Very well,” he said, straightening his shoulders, “I see that, once again, my presence is not needed”

Or wanted.

He turned and climbed the steps to the doors without another word.  Let Thor have his ass handed to him by their father.  See if he cared.

---

~The Queen’s Chambers~

“Oh Loki,” Frigga breathed, hurrying to her son, and throwing her arms around his shoulders as soon as he appeared in her doorway, “I’m so relieved you’re alright.  What happened?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but he was cut off by Sif.

“What of Thor?” she asked.

She had joined Frigga (and Sigyn, he assumed, though looking around he didn’t see her) in the queen’s chambers after he and his brother ran after their father.   

“Is he still in the vault?” she continued, not giving him a chance to answer her first question. “Why did he not come back with you?”

He rolled his eyes.  For the life of him, he did not understand this woman’s infatuation with his insipid sibling.

“Father and he are having a slight disagreement,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and glaring at her. “It would seem that your beloved desires war with Jotunheim.”

They gaped at him as though he had grown two heads.  He was about to repeat himself when Sigyn, her eyes puffy and red, appeared in the doorway of the washroom.  His heart ached at the sight of her.  She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but at that moment she looked like Hel.  He crossed the space in two long strides, and cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her forehead.

“I’m so sorry, Sig,” he whispered low against her ear. “I didn’t want to leave you.  Are you alright?”

“She’s got a nasty bruise right smack in the middle of her chest, poor thing,” an older woman (a healer) answered for her, walking over to her and placing an ice pack on the bruise.

He pulled back from Sigyn enough to look at the injury, and sure enough, big, and purple and blue, a bruise marred her lovely skin right across her sternum.  He took the ice pack from the healer and held it against the bruise.  She winced, probably from the cold, and he kissed her forehead.

“Is Thor completely mad?” she said, looking up at him with wide eyes. “A few Jotuns in the vault, and he’s ready to plunge headfirst into war with the frost giants?”

She was quickly losing faith in the heir’s ability to rule the nine realms, not that she’d had much in the first place.

“I’m going to him,” Sif said, tightening the leather strap around her hair. “Someone needs to talk him down, and forgive me for saying so, but I doubt that the Allfather can do it.” Without another word, she ran through the open doors.

“Loki,” Frigga said, though it sounded more akin to a sigh, “you and Sigyn should change out of your formal attire.  I fear that the coronation is on hold for an undetermined amount of time.” Running a hand down her face, she went through the door of her bedchamber and closed it behind her.

Now that she was alone with him, Sigyn pulled him down for a lengthy kiss, though it was from a place of relief, not passion.  Watching him run out of that crowded hall earlier, with no idea what he had done, she had been terrified that Odin would kill him for it.  Well, maybe not kill.  She pulled back from his mouth when the ice pack started to melt and drip all over the front of her dress.  

“It was absolute chaos back there,” she whispered heatedly, taking the pack to the washroom to drop it in the wash basin, then turned around and walked back toward him. “If your mother hadn’t been there, I would have been trampled by all those giant Asgardian idiots.”

“I’m Asgardian, too, Sig,” he said, eyes narrowed as he took a step toward her. “We’re not all idiots-”

“You aren’t like them!” she shouted, cutting him off. “I’d swear you weren’t of the same genetic make-up!”

Taken aback by the insinuation that he was genetically different, as opposed to only feeling painfully out of place (all his life!), his mouth fell open a bit.  He started to speak, but she waved her hand.

“It matters not,” she continued, completely unaware of the pain in his features, “I knew you were alive.  I felt that you were, but I was still so scared of-”

“Enough,” he growled over her words while grabbing her elbow.

Pulling her to him, he flicked his wrist and transported them instantly to his chambers.  He refused to listen to this “I’m so scared because x, y, z!” nonsense any further, and hearing “you can’t possibly be from this planet!” was even worse.

Conversation OVER.

The less well-behaved part of him wanted to shove a gag of some sort in her mouth to shut her up, however, doing so would come back to (literally) bite him the instant that gag was removed.  That, or seeing her in a somewhat submissive situation would turn him on, thereby turning him stupid, and then he might let her say whatever the Hel she wanted to him.  What was the point?  Putting the smart part of his brain to good use, he shushed her with gentle kisses on her cheeks, nose, chin, and mouth, sparing no part of her face.

“Everything is fine,” he whispered against her temple, one hand in her hair, the other wrapped around her ribs, “just as I said it would be.  My father sits upon the throne still, and he won’t break his truce with Laufey.  Even after this, he’ll just tighten security.  Maybe have a talk with Laufey himself.  Now help me get out of this.  I feel as though my skin is melting underneath all this leather and metal.”

Pulling his cape free, she held the green fabric to her chest, inhaling the smell, setting it to memory, lest he leave again and not return.  He sat on the hearth sofa, bending to remove his boots as she knelt in front of him, reaching around his neck, unhooking the clasps of his breastplate.  Brow furrowed, she eyed him.

“All this Jotunheim nonsense was just to stop the coronation?”

“Indeed, it was,” he said, maybe a touch too brightly.

He left out the part about Laufey killing Theoric.  He knew she didn’t like the hawk, but somehow Loki doubted she would approve of killing him.  Free from the constraints of his armor, he gripped her waist and pulled her into his lap.  

“I think the coronation will be delayed longer than I’d anticipated.  March on Jotunheim,” he mimicked his brother’s voice and chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “Thor is a fool.  Father might be questioning his choice to crown him at all.”

Sigyn relaxed a little.  She’d feared that Loki’s jaunts to Jotunheim had been for a more sinister purpose.  His words put her at ease.  Somewhat.  She couldn’t help feeling there was something he wasn’t telling her, something he was blocking her from.  She shook her head, deciding she’d had enough worrying for the day, and reached down between them, unlacing the front of his trousers.  A jolt of arousal shot through her abdomen as her hand grazed him through the leather.

He groaned as she dipped her hand underneath the waistband.  Valhalla,what he wouldn’t give to let her do that for a bit.

 “Trust me, Sig, there is nothing I would rather do than that right now, but,” he pressed his lips together, and with no small amount of effort, he pulled her hand away. “I must find Thor.  I wouldn’t put it past him to do something incredibly asinine after his fight with father.”

Pushing up from the sofa, giving her an apologetic look, he kissed her cheek and walked to his dressing room where he pulled on a simple black tunic and boots.  He grabbed his thick leather jacket on his way back out into his room.  When he reemerged, Sigyn was talking to Fandral who stood at the outer chamber doors.  

“Fandral?  Why are you here?” he questioned, eyes narrowed.

Ever since that first meal together, when Fandral had flirted with Sigyn, he couldn’t stand to see that vapid blond anywhere near her.  Tossing his jacket angrily on his bed as he walked past it, he hurried to them and put himself between the two.  Sighing, Fandral ran a hand through his hair nervously.

 “Thor is set on going to Jotunheim,” he said.

Loki just stood there, one eyebrow raising as his mouth fell open.  His brother was going to Jotunheim?  Surely, he’d heard that wrong.

“Come again?”

“You heard me,” Fandral groaned, shaking his head. “With or without our aid, I might add.”

Screwing his eyes shut, Loki let his head fall forward.  He heard Sigyn mumble a curse behind him, and then he felt her forehead between his shoulder blades.  Her thoughts echoed his thoughts.  His brother was out of his damn mind.

“I think it best we not let him go,” Fandral sighed, “or, at the very least, not let him go alone.”

Loki ran a hand through his hair as Sigyn’s arms came around his waist from behind, pulling herself flush against him.  She was shaking a bit, and he could feel the angry heat of her skin through his tunic.  Fandral’s hand came down on his shoulder.

“Now might be the time to put that silver tongue of yours to the test, Loki,” he said apologetically.

He lifted his head just enough to meet Fandral’s stare, and Sigyn’s hold tightened tenfold.  He ran a hand down his face.  Shit.

“Of course,” he said finally, rolling his eyes.  He turned in her hold to face her and gave her a small smirk. “Seems I was right about him doing something asinine,” he said, snorting.

She just set her jaw and stared at him because she saw absolutely nothing funny about this, and she knew he didn’t either.  She could feel his nerves through their bond.  Blowing out a breath, he pulled her hands off his waist and leaned down to plant a kiss on her lips.

“I won’t be long,” he said, firmly grasping her shoulders. “Stay here.”

He turned, looking back at her over his shoulder, then left with Fandral.  Seething, she gritted her teeth and stared after them.

The Hel I’ll stay.

She was in no mood to be left again.  Hiking up her skirt, she dashed down the corridor after them, dodging the nervous palace workers scuttling about with excitement over the frost giant gossip.  At the sound of her clicking heels gaining on them, Loki turned, anger pulling at his features.

“Sigyn, I thought I told you to-”

“I don’t give a damn what you told me,” she snapped. “I could just as easily tell you to stay.  Doesn’t mean I expect you to do it.” She grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers with his and turned to continue down the corridor.

Jaw clenched, he lowered his voice, so only she could hear. “That’s different.  You’re-”

“I’m what?  A woman?” she scoffed, glaring up at him.

“No,” he groaned and rolled his eyes. “I mean, yes, you are a woman, but that’s not what I meant.”

You’re too important to me− That’s what he’d meant if she would’ve let him finish his damn sentence.

Just as YOU’RE too important to ME, Loki.

He heard her voice in his head as clearly as if she’d spoken the words out loud, and his eyes slid closed, his heart clenching in his chest.  He brought her hand that he’d been holding up to his mouth to kiss it then dropped it and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.  She slid her arm around his waist and leaned her head on his shoulder as they picked up the pace.  He sighed heavily.  The forthcoming chat with Thor had the potential to blow up in his face, and he really didn’t want her involved.  He had a distinct feeling that her fire was going to be a problem.

When they finally reached the celebration hall where Thor was last seen, they gaped at the sight.  The long head table had been overturned with various gourds, apples, grapes, pastries, meats, and cheeses littering the freshly waxed granite floors.  His brother sat on the steps leading to the balcony decked with fresh evergreen garland which had been a gift for the would-have-been new king from some of the Vanir nobility.  Servants busied themselves cleaning the leftovers of what had clearly been a self-entitled “but I was BORN to be a king!” angry outburst.

Eyebrows pulling together, Loki watched “his royal blondness” hang his head while mindlessly rolling a mead goblet between his thumb and his forefinger.  If his brother was this angry, there would probably be no talking him down, but he would do his best.  Exhaling heavily, he dropped his arm from Sigyn’s shoulders and approached Thor with careful steps.  He wasn’t afraid of him, but he needed the few extra seconds to collect his thoughts.  Sigyn kept her eyes on Loki as she walked backwards to join Thor’s friends at one of the buffet tables. 

“We salvaged some of the food,” Volstagg said, holding a bowl of cherries out to her. “These are particularly exquisite.  Just look at them!  Deep red and shining.  Mm!”

When she didn’t respond, only continuing to watch Loki and Thor, Volstagg shoved the bowl under her nose.

“Try them, Lady Sigyn.  They are perfectly ripe!”

She turned to glare at him.  She was trying to listen to Loki’s conversation with his brother, for heaven’s sake.  She didn’t care about cherries!  Just as she was about to take the bowl and throw it across the room, her stomach growled, and she got a whiff of the cherries.  Figuring she might as well, she popped one in her mouth, her eyes going wide and then sliding shut happily at the sweet taste.  She moaned so loudly that even Loki turned to look at her from the other side of the room with raised eyebrows.

“Goodness, Lady Sigyn,” Volstagg muttered, turning red. “I didn’t realize they were that good.”

She might have apologized for the highly erotic sounds she was making, but she was too busy working her way through the bowl.  Gods, she hadn’t realized how hungry she was. 

Fandral smirked and fetched another bowl. “Please, do continue,” he said grinning from ear to ear and handed it to her.

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head and grabbed a napkin to wipe the cherry juice from her fingers.  She would have licked them clean, but she especially didn’t want to see Fandral’s reaction to that.

“Tis unfortunate you can’t produce such sounds from a woman, Fandral,” Volstagg said, laughing out loud and slapping him on the back.

Fandral looked as though he would beat him into the next century but stopped at the sound of Thor and Loki approaching.  Thor beamed like it was his birthday, and Loki followed, his face set in a deep frown.

“Loki and I have decided to go to Jotunheim,” he declared, a toothy smile crinkling his eyes.

Looking between the two men, Sigyn’s jaw dropped.  She was at Loki’s side in a heartbeat.

“What?” Normally, she would have been embarrassed by the shrieking pitch of her voice, but not now, not when Loki was in for an absurd battle on gods damn Jotunheim.

“Um, no,” Loki corrected, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, and glaring at his brother. “I was completely opposed to that, but I cannot let this royal fool go there alone.  Valhalla knows he will need all the help he can get.”

 “Absolutely not!” she said, anger swelling in her chest.  Jaw set, she pointed at Thor, angry tears pricking her eyes.

“You are positively infuriating!  What in the nine are you thinking?!  You’ll get yourself killed!  Or worse-” she pointed to Loki “-you’ll get him killed!”  

She ran a hand through her hair and blew out a breath, trying to calm down.  This wasn’t happening.  This could not be happening.  Dear gods, she was going to lose the man she loved.  She couldn’t even fathom her life without him anymore.  He mattered too much.  He was everything to her now.  Thor moved a step closer to her then.

“You may lie with my brother nightly, Lady Sigyn,” he said, eyes narrowing, “but that is no excuse for addressing the crowned prince of Asgard with such disrespect.”

Her chest heaved as her anger boiled over into flat out rage, and the warriors gawked in silence as the torches in the hall grew, sparks falling to the floor.  Gritting her teeth (why did this keep happening?!), she slammed her eyes shut, focusing on pulling the smoke back in.  It was physically painful to do so, but she managed to do it.

Once the torches returned to normal, Thor raised an eyebrow at her. “And you think I’m going to get everyone killed?”

Ouch.

Tears filled her eyes quickly, and her lips trembled.  She’d managed to control the fire, had she not?  It had taken every ounce of strength she had to do it, but she’d done it.  She didn’t deserve to be scolded.  She deserved a godsdamn trophy!  She tried not to hit him− she really tried.  It wasn’t enough.  Her fist collided with his face, and his head whipped back from the force of it.  

Eyes blown wide, Loki instinctively grabbed her and pushed her behind him, putting himself between them.  He’d never seen a woman hit Thor, not even Sif.  He had no clue what the man would do, but he would be damned if he let his brother lay even a finger on her.  Thor rubbed his cheek and stared daggers at her.  Loki had a death grip on her waist, holding her back behind him.  Eyes narrow, his magic pooled in his chest, ready to be used if need be.  His brother would not hurt her.  No one would.  Not ever.

Sticking her head out from behind Loki’s shoulder, she shouted, “You’re just pissed because you didn’t get a crown today, but you’ll never get one with such petulant actions!”

Glaring at her, Thor fisted his hands and addressed his brother. “Gain control of your pet, brother,” he growled, moving another step closer.

Nostrils flaring, Loki seethed— I beg your pardon?!

His entire body responded before he could even mentally process what his brother had said.  He shot a burst of magic into the man’s chest, sending him flying across the room.

“You speak of disrespect, and yet you call her my pet?” he shouted through his teeth.

He didn’t think he’d ever been so angry at Thor before.  He was willing to endure insults himself, but he would not, he could not allow anyone to speak like that to Sig.  It was akin to being kicked in the gut.  She wasn’t a pet.  She was a strong, powerful, intelligent, beautiful woman, and he’d not stand for anyone speaking down to her.  Honestly, he wanted to see Prince Jackass on his knees at her feet, begging for forgiveness.  

On the other side of the room, Thor stood to his feet and swiped at the blood on his lips.  Looking at the shocked silent warriors (even Sif hadn’t come to his aid), he felt nothing but shame.  It must have been the mixture of adrenaline and testosterone coursing through him that had made his tongue loose.  His behavior was positively wretched, and he knew it.  Frowning deeply, he turned to Sigyn who was now standing next to Loki (clearly still pissed) who had his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side.

“Forgive me,” Thor said in earnest, “I spoke out of turn, but I stand by my decision.”

Loki rolled his eyes.  Well, this fool hadn’t done it on his knees, but at least he’d apologized.  Impossibly angry, Sigyn shrugged out of his grasp and ran full speed out the doors.

“Sig!” he yelled and took off after her, chasing her down the guest corridor.

She made it to her chambers and started stripping immediately.  If Loki was going to Jotunheim, she was too, and she wasn’t going in this dress.  She managed to get her straps unhooked just as he rounded the corner and burst through her doors.  She shrieked at the loud intrusion, dropping her traditional Vanir armor accidentally and grasping the top of her dress to keep from exposing her breasts.  Eyes wide, he came to an abrupt halt and quickly closed the doors behind him to give them privacy.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his extreme concern for her raising the pitch of his voice at the sight of her bow and quiver on her bed. “Sig?”

Rather than answer, she just blew her hair out of her face and let the dress top fall as she bent to retrieve the armor.  Shaking his head, he crossed the room in all of three long strides and snatched the armor from her hands with one hand and began re-fastening the straps of her dress with his other.  It was certainly the first time he’d actively tried to put her clothes back on.

“You are absolutely not coming with us,” he said, panic rising in his chest at the thought of her in Jotunheim battling frost giants.

“Stop it, Loki,” she sighed and pushed his hands away with great effort.

Keeping her eyes on him, she walked backwards from him while pulling her shoulders free from the impractical coronation gown that Frigga had made specially for her.

“I am well skilled with bow, blade, and magic,” she spoke firmly. “Need I remind you that I am the only one of you who is fully capable of actually melting a frost giant?  You will not leave me again.”

Loki watched her with wide eyes, his hands running through his hair anxiously.  Sigyn going with them had not been part of the plan.  Marching on Jotunheim at all had not been part of the plan.  He’d only intended to piss off Laufey so he could retaliate with Theoric as his target eventually.  Perhaps he hadn’t thoroughly thought it through.  It mattered not now.  All he could think of was Sigyn getting herself killed.  He wanted to rip out his hair in frustration.  He was the one who watched out for the others’ backs, slinging daggers at enemies unaware, but if she were present, his focus would only be on keeping her safe!  She was a greater threat to the six of them than Laufey, for Hel’s sake!  

Feeling helpless, he watched as she removed the dark green dress, replacing it with black leather leggings and boots and covered her grey long sleeved wool tunic with a silver leather armored corset, a black evergreen stitched into the thick garment.  Tugging on a silver fur-lined cloak, she looked every bit the deadly Vanir warrior she was.  He didn’t care that she wasn’t a damsel in distress who needed him to save her.  He couldn’t help the deep need to protect her at all costs.  And he couldn’t do that in Jotunheim!  Grabbing the longbow and quiver from her hands and tossing them on the bed, he pulled her against him and cupped her face, looking in her eyes.

“I will not be able to protect you,” he said, his voice cracking.

Sighing, she closed her eyes. “You won’t need to.”

He stroked her hair, combing the waves with his fingers. “You are far too important.  I cannot lose you.”

“Nor I you, Loki, which is precisely why I am coming with you.  End of discussion.”

Pulling out of his hold, she wove her hair into a side braid and retrieved her bow and quiver, slinging them across her torso.  His emerald eyes filled with hot angry tears as he watched her strap her sharp black bladed dagger to the inside of her leather clad thigh.

“No, Sig,” he pleaded.  He couldn’t believe she was refusing his request.  His mind reeled.

She’ll get the both of us killed.

“No, I won’t,” she insisted, hearing his unguarded thoughts.

She pushed up on her toes to place a lingering kiss on his cheek, surprised to find it wet with silent tears.  Gods, he was breaking her heart.  His arms came around her, pulling her so tight against him that she could barely breathe.  

“Come,” she whispered, taking a step sideways. “We need to go to your chambers.  You’ll freeze without at least your jacket.”

He didn’t let go of her, only stepping with her and whispering “no no no no no” into her hair repeatedly.  She continued stepping until he finally relented and let go of her.  Before she could move away from him, though, he grabbed her hand, and with a heavy sigh, he pulled her with him toward the south wing of the royal corridor.

---

~The Bifrost~

Sigyn felt as though she would be sick from anxiety as she rode down the bridge behind Thor and his friends.  She didn’t want to do this.  She’d never fought Jotuns.  She’d never even been to Jotunheim.  However, if Loki had to go because his moronic brother needed to measure dicks with the frost giants (a contest he would most certainly lose), she would follow.

Turning her head sharply to the left, she focused on Loki’s face.  His jaw was set, eyes narrowed as he applied more pressure to his horse’s side with his legs.  She heard him say “run, Sin” through his teeth, and Sinir lengthened his stride into a full gallop.  Through the bond, she knew his nerves were as bad as hers, though he was better at concealing it.  His anger was far more potent, though.

Good.

Being pissed off was better than being scared.  Nostrils flaring, she allowed his anger to compound hers and propel her forward even though she wanted to turn back.  She lightened herself in the saddle, and clucking her tongue, Moða took off like Surtur was at her heels, matching Sinir’s stride within seconds.  Even at a full gallop, it seemed to take hours to get to the observatory.  Time was relative though, wasn’t it?  It flies when you’re having fun.  Gritting her teeth, she rolled her eyes.  Yes, never in her life had she been more joyous than at this moment.  

She dismounted just as Thor announced their destination to Heimdall.  She blew out a breath and took her place alongside Loki, the warriors three, and Sif.  Feeling pure dread, she chewed her bottom lip and looked down at her boots as the golden observatory that was the gate of Asgard spun to life.

This is a fucking terrible plan.

Her eyes snapped up to the back of Loki’s head.  Those exact words had echoed in his mind just as she’d thought them.  Pushing a few loose strands from her braid behind her ears, she smirked humorlessly and raised an eyebrow.  Well, at least two of them on this little adventure had something other than empty space between their ears.  Heimdall’s deep voice set them on edge as he pushed his sword into the stone rudder, inputting the coordinates of their destination.

“Heed this warning, young warriors,” he said, “if there is any threat to Asgard, I will not reopen the Bifrost.”

Brilliant—As though she wasn’t already nauseated.  The familiar pull into the beam of light came over her, and she reached for Loki’s hand just as he stretched back to grab hers.  

He frowned though when his hand grabbed at nothing but empty space.  What?  Why wasn’t she taking his hand?  He barely had a nanosecond to think on that before he heard her screaming.

“No!  No!  Let me go!  Let me go!  Take your hands off me!”

He whipped his head around just in time to see Theoric’s arms wrapped around her waist, dragging her back to the entrance.  Filled with rage, he conjured a dagger.

“Son of a-”

It was too late.  Loki was pulled headfirst into the light with the others before he could do a damn thing about it.  Her cries faded to nothing as he along with his brother and their friends flew toward the cold realm.  When he returned to Asgard, he would slit that hawk’s throat.  That is, if he returned.  For now, he had a much bigger problem to deal with.  They landed heavily on Jotunheim, and he looked up, watching with dread as the rainbow of light disappeared into the black clouds above them.  Blowing out a breath, he stood slowly, green eyes sweeping the desolate plain for Jotuns.

---

Finally wrenching herself free of Theoric’s hold on her, Sigyn grit her teeth and kneed him where it would hurt most.

“How could you?!” she yelled at him before taking off back down the bridge toward the palace, whistling for Moða to come back to her.  

Heimdall had closed the Bifrost, and she had no way of following the warriors.  She had to tell Frigga where they’d gone.  She should have told her before they’d left in the first place.  Maybe the queen could’ve stopped it.  Vaguely, she heard Theoric’s fast and heavy footsteps behind her, and she spun to face him, unsheathing the dagger from her thigh holster.

“If you come within a foot of me again, I swear I will kill you!”

He held his hands up, though he didn’t stop in his approach.

“Damn you, Theoric!  One more step, and you’ll be food for the vultures!” she growled, sincerely hoping he wouldn’t come any closer because she really would kill him, and that would land her a spot in the dungeons.  She breathed a sigh of relief when he did stop.  If only he could’ve kept his mouth shut, too.

“I couldn’t let you go!  You were on a death mission!” he shouted, the wind howling around the bridge nearly drowning out his voice.

Silver cloak tossing about her frame, her stormy eyes blazed.  Gods, she hated him at that moment.  Loathed him.  Despised him.  With every ounce of her being.

“What is it with you men?” she cried out in frustration, tears welling up and flowing over. “I do not need a savior!   I was going to protect him, you bastard!  Must you be my shadow?  What do you want from me?” She saw him sigh heavily, and he hung his head. 

“I am in love with you, Sigyn,” he said, his voice cracking on the word love as he lifted his head just enough to look her in the eyes from across the small distance that separated them. 

“Has he ever said those words to you?” he asked, taking one small step toward her. “Will he ever?”

She realized his eyes were full of tears, too, and she frowned, empathy easing her hatred just that much.  The man had no idea that he was in a losing battle, did he.  She dropped her head, laughing humorlessly as she sheathed her dagger once more.

“Find another to bestow your affections upon.  I’ve bound myself to Loki.  I love him.  I adore him.  As he does me.”

Even if he won’t SAY it expressly.

Theoric opened his mouth, but she cut him off, her eyes flashing just as Moða came up to a halt behind her.

“And if he does not return,” she hissed, putting her boot in the stirrup, and swinging her other leg over the saddle, “by the gods, I will have your heart for first meal!”

“Sigyn, wait,” he started.

Gripping the reins, she tugged them to the right, and Moða turned around to run toward the palace, leaving Theoric standing alone at the observatory.

---

~Jotunheim~

Loki twisted, slinging a dagger, slicing it through the neck of a Jotun coming at Sif from behind.  Once again, it was left to him to watch the sixes of Thor and his friends.  This always happened.  Assessing the scene, he conjured razor sharp knives glowing with green light and continually flung them at the incessantly attacking Jotuns.  Thor and his idiot friends would all be dead if he weren’t there.

His brother’s demands for answers from Laufey had turned into a battle.  Because why wouldn’t they turned into a fucking battle?  Did his brother really think that thousands of frost giants were no match for him?  

Vaguely aware of the inhuman growls spewing from Thor’s mouth as he pounded Mjölnir into giant after giant, Loki dissipated the illusion of himself that had tricked an oncoming Jotun, its monstrous body falling into the icy chasm behind his “trapped” fake.  He gaped in horror then as Fandral, screaming in torturous pain, was impaled in the shoulder by a huge sharp icicle.

Chest burning from the cold, Loki grit his teeth and slid beneath the legs of the giant that had attacked Fandral before it could finish the job.  Daggers in both of his hands, he sliced through the backs of its knees.  He cringed as the blood splattered across his cheek, dragging the back of his hand across his face, then he watched the giant scream and crumple to the ground.  Somewhere in the disastrous scene, he heard the gravelly voice of Volstagg shouting.

“Don’t let them touch you!”

Loki rolled his eyes.  Now Volstagg needed saving as well.  Wonderful.  Setting his jaw, he conjured a dagger and turned in a circle to locate the barrel-chested brute.  When he spotted him, he froze.  Swallowing back the bile that was rising in his throat, he sneered at the sight of the slowly crusting over black flesh of Volstagg’s arm who was now repeatedly head butting the giant who had grabbed him.  Well, that was disgusting.

He knew that the frost giants conjured icicles to slice apart their enemies, but their ability to literally give frostbite to anyone they touched was news to him.  He felt a rush of wind behind him then.  Instinctively, he spun on his heel, glowing dagger in hand, and stabbed at the approaching Jotun’s chest.  Before the blade made contact, though, the monster grabbed him by the forearm, and the leather of his jacket sleeve ripped apart just as his vambrace shattered in the Jotun’s icy grasp.

He winced, anticipating the forthcoming freezing burn, but upon feeling only a slight chill, he stared at his arm.  His jaw dropped, and he blinked rapidly at the sight of his skin turning blue, the classic Jotun raised markings appearing on his flesh.

What the fu…?

Returning his eyes to the frost giant who seemed just as surprised by his skin’s transformation, Loki clenched his teeth, and nostrils flaring, eyes glistening with hateful tears, he thrust the dagger into the stunned giant’s chest.  As it dropped to the ground dead, he gaped at his arm, the dark blue returning to the pale color he’d known his entire life.  He shook his head, clearing what must have been a hallucination from his mind.

I’m going mad on this desolate rock.

He whipped his head around at the sound of Sif crying out his name.  She and Volstagg and Hogun were struggling to pull Fandral free of the icicle that had impaled him and still held him there in his vulnerable state. 

“Get down!” he yelled out, and they ducked as he slung two daggers across the battlefield, sinking them into the throats of two Jotuns on the verge of beheading the warriors from behind.

“Let’s go!” Hogun shouted once Fandral was free, and Volstagg hefted him over his shoulder and took off alongside him.

Jotuns were at their backs, and Sif bent low and swept her long sword out behind her, slicing off the legs of four Jotuns at once.

“THOR!!” she shouted over her shoulder as they ran.

Thor continued swinging his hammer, completely oblivious to his friends as he decked every frost giant that approached him.  Loki flung ten daggers in quick succession, stabbing with precise aim the hearts of Jotun after Jotun who neared them from behind.  Dear gods, he was exhausted, but there was no time to bend over to catch his breath.  With an angry shout, he forced his legs to run faster, despite the burning of his muscles.  He could still hear Mjolnir swinging.  That fool was still fighting?  There was no time to keep fighting!  His brother would truly get himself killed!

“We’re leaving!” he yelled back at his brother, flinging another four daggers as he did so. “NOW, THOR!”

His baby brother’s voice had always been capable of scaring the living daylights out of him, thus the sound of Loki’s angry growl finally caught Thor’s attention.  Raising his hammer to the sky, clouds gathered above him and lightning connected to it.  He then crashed it back down to the ice below his feet, and the ground exploded, frost giants tossed about like ragdolls from the impact.  Nodding once, satisfied that his work was done, he ran after his brother and friends with a huge smile plastered on his face.  They finally arrived at the steep cliff that the Bifrost had dropped them on, and looking to the clouds above, they screamed in unison, terrified, begging the invisible gatekeeper to save them.

“HEIMDALL!!”

Receiving no response, frost giants descending upon them from every angle, the group crouched, their backs to each other, weapons at the ready.  Well, at least now Loki had a chance to catch his breath, though the sight of thousands of blood red eyes staring back at him was dampening the effect of that tiny silver lining.  This was it.  Heimdall had said he wouldn’t reopen the Bifrost if there was a threat to Asgard, and if thousands of angry frost giants weren’t a threat, he didn’t know what was.  Maybe they could just jump from the cliff.  How badly could it hurt?  He discreetly eyed the steep crevice behind him.  Oh shit that was high.  Badly—It would hurt badly.

He thought of Sigyn.  If he was going to die, it was going to be picturing her face and remembering her voice.  If he closed his eyes for a second, he could almost hear her.  Wait…

He could hear her.  How was that possible?  Neither his mind-reading, nor their bond worked across the realms, but he could hear her, nonetheless, crying out to him, screaming his name, telling him to “just hold on!”

His eyes blew wide.  Hold on?  For how long?  He had maybe six seconds left before he would be ripped to pieces!

Out of nowhere the Jotuns halted their deadly charge and squinted at the sky.  The six Asgardians followed their line of sight and looked to the swirling clouds above them.  Chewing his lip, Loki stared, at once both terrified and relieved to see the Bifrost descending.  Guaranteed, Sigyn had told his mother, and his mother had told his father, and now he and his brother would likely receive more wrath from their father than they would have from Laufey.  The powerful beam of light exploded from the sky and crashed onto the ground next to them.  Thor’s victorious cry was nearly as loud as the thunderous roar of the bridge between the realms as the Allfather landed on the ground and reared back on Sleipnir, the horse’s neighs deafening.

“Father!”

“The Norns be praised!” Fandral said, breathless, his words hoarse, as he lifted his head from over Volstagg’s shoulder.

“Dammit,” Loki muttered to himself, not that anyone would have heard him over the sound of the Bifrost or Odin’s horse.  Relieved as he was at the prospect of getting home with all his parts still attached to him, the stunt they’d just pulled would in all likelihood land them a special place in the dungeons.

Odin’s voice held great power, as did Gungnir, held steadily in his hand.

“Laufey,” he said firmly, addressing the Jotun king.

To Laufey’s credit, he didn’t shrink at the sound or the sight of Odin but held his ground.

“It seems that your foolish brood desire war, so war they shall have,” Laufey said.

Then he nodded to Thor, red eyes glaring from under his broad and sharply curved brow and gestured to a Jotun near the thunder god.  A thick shard of ice grew from the giant’s hand, ready to embed itself in Thor’s jugular.  Seeing the ice coming at his brother, Loki’s jaw dropped. 

“NO!” he screamed, and conjuring a dagger, he threw it at the giant before its icy weapon could run his brother through. 

The glowing blade sliced off the attacking Jotun’s offending arm, and his brother turned, barely registering what had happened.  Before anyone could process what had happened, Laufey grabbed Loki, yanking him back forcefully against his freezing body.  He cried out, more from horror than pain, as his armor ripped and broke apart at every point of contact, his flesh once again turning that monstrous Jotun blue where it was exposed.  Using all his strength, he kicked against Laufey.  He was so upset that he clean forgot he could use his magic to get the monster’s fucking hands off him.  He slammed his eyes shut, not wanting to see his horrid skin.

No, this isn’t possible!  It cannot be real!

It was probably no more than two seconds, but it felt like he’d been trapped in Laufey’s arms for a lifetime by the time he heard his father legitimately roar his name.

“LOKI, NO!”

Odin pointed Gungnir at the boulder below Laufey’s feet, and a flaming hot light burst from its end.  The stone exploded into pieces, blowing the Jotun king back and freeing Loki from his icy grasp.  The Bifrost reopened then, and the blinding beam of light surrounded the seven Asgardians, dragging them with it as it disappeared from Jotunheim.

Flying at light speed back to his home, Loki watched his skin return to its normal hue.  He landed, along with the others, on his feet in the observatory.  So much relief washed over him, he nearly kissed the floor.  No, he didn’t want to kiss the floor.  He wanted to kiss her.  He’d heard her.  He knew he had.  Where was she?  He could feel her.  She was there somewhere.  Oh gods, he needed to see her.  He needed her arms around him, fiery hot blazing arms around his neck were the only antidote to the icy cold he could still feel from Laufey.  

Determined to keep his composure, he searched for her face among the dozens of soldiers who had been called to stand guard against a possible onslaught of Jotuns.  He didn’t want to call her name for fear that his voice would crack like some little prepubescent boy.  Finally catching her eyes from across the observatory, he sighed heavily and slowly fought his way through the sea of bodies, growing increasingly frustrated with how many people had crowded into the observatory.  As soon as she was within his reach, he grabbed hold of Sigyn’s hand that was stretched out to him.  Blowing out an angry breath, he elbowed the last soldier blocking him from her with his free arm.

“Step aside, Private,” he growled, and the soldier bowed his head, mumbling “my apologies, your highness” as he moved out of Loki’s way.

“Sig,” he breathed as he finally pulled her into his arms.

Bloody Hel, she felt divine, the fire under her skin melting the awful ice in his bones.  Burying his face in her hair, he clung to her as though she would disappear at any second.   As the soldiers surrounding them marched back to the palace having been ordered to stand down, he kissed her square on the mouth (propriety could go to Hel for all he cared), and the tears he’d been holding back fell down his cheeks.  He reached up to swipe them away angrily.

So much for keeping my composure.

“You’re alive,” she whispered against his mouth, holding onto the back of his neck. “You’re okay.”

She paused, brow creasing when she realized he was trembling in her arms.  Pulling back just enough to get a good look at him, her eyes filled with tears all over again.  His face was drained of all its blood, and his eyes were positively bloodshot.

“Loki?”

His lips were practically blue as he just stared at her in response.  Eyes growing wider, she shook him a little.  Either he was in shock, or he was purposefully shielding her from what he’d witnessed in Jotunheim.

“Loki, what happened?” she whispered more harshly, pushing his hair back from his face.  Still, he didn’t answer.  She spoke through her teeth then. “Tell me what happened!”

He swallowed audibly.  He wanted to answer her, but he couldn’t find his voice.  But even if he could speak, what would he say?  

What happened?  What HAPPENED?  My skin turned fucking BLUE!  That’s what happened!

But his voice refused to cooperate.  His green eyes met her grey, and he offered the smallest of smiles.  He couldn’t talk here anyway.  They needed to go.  He pulled her hands from his neck and started to pull her by the hand to the bridge, but he stopped short when he heard his father yelling.  He thought maybe the old man was yelling at him, but his eyes went wide when it became clear that Odin was only angry at Thor.

Loki turned with Sigyn to watch the scene play out before them.  Thor was yelling back at their father as Odin yelled at Volstagg to get Fandral to the healers.  Volstagg then pushed Fandral onto the saddle of his horse, and they along with Hogun and Sif galloped away at full speed to the palace.  Thor shouted that Odin was an old fool, and Odin then plunged the blunt end of Gungnir into the stone rudder of the observatory, the huge golden gears spinning together and roaring to life.

Loki stared, confused by his father’s actions. “Father, what are you-”

He was silenced by the Allfather’s deafening growl.  His father then shouted something about taking Thor’s power, about him being unworthy of Mjolnir, and banishing him.  The hammer then shot out of Thor’s hand, and Odin caught it swiftly.  Loki and Sigyn stood frozen, gaping, not believing what was playing out in front of them.  Yanked into the beam of light, back first, Thor screamed, his arms flung forward, reaching for his home, for his family.  The ancient markings on the hammer faded, and Odin threw the hammer after his firstborn.

Sighing, weary with sorrow for his loss, Odin retrieved his spear, and looking to his youngest, the king shook his head.

“Come, Loki.  It’s imperative that you see Eir.”

Sigyn gaped at the king as he walked away.  He banished Thor?  His own heir?  Had Loki known that he would?  Was that why he was sobbing?  No, that couldn’t be.  He was as genuinely shocked as she was.  Not only that, why was it imperative that Loki see the chief healer?  For the love, what had happened to him?

“Sig?”

She was snapped from her musings when he finally spoke to her.  He led her to Sinir, who had, along with the other warriors’ horses, run to the Bifrost at the sound of their return.  Setting his boot in the stirrup, he pulled himself onto the saddle and reached down to lift her up to sit behind him.  She wrapped her arms around his waist, still wondering what the Hel had happened to him as they set off to the palace.