~ REGNELBRÆR FALLS, LEVENDEGRØN, VANAHEIM~

Jumping from a cliff was a terrible way to die, and it was made especially so by the two hundred foot waterfall that Sigyn had unwillingly chosen.  She was positive there had been death enchantment cast over that tree portal because never in her nine hundred years had she been suicidal.  And why the Hel would she suddenly become so?  She was in love with a man who also loved her.  She was healthy and strong.  She had magic.  She lived in a palace.  The future had looked good.  

Not that it mattered now, since she couldn’t do a damn thing but let gravity do its brutal job.  Sigyn had hoped the fall alone would kill her.  Unfortunately, as an immortal Vanir, her body was far too resilient to receive such splendid mercy.  No, it would be a far more harrowing death.  Oh what she would have given to be human in that moment.  Any death, it seemed, would have been preferable to crashing into the tumultuous water.  

Her lumbar broke upon impact.  Thank goodness for her thick skin, which managed to hold together, keeping her broken bones underneath its pale surface.  If she was going to die (and she most certainly was going to die), she didn’t want her parts to be scattered throughout the river bottom.  Water flooded her nose and mouth, filling her lungs.  She would have screamed if she could.  Never could she have imagined the excruciating pain of that amount of pressure on her body.  As though drowning wasn’t bad enough, she was also being crushed to death.  The pressure was flattening her, squeezing the blood out of her eyes, her nose, her ears, her mouth.

Tumbling beneath the waterfall, she suffocated and felt her body snapped apart, bit by bit. Darkness appeared in her periphery and closed in slowly, her consciousness drifting away with her vision.

---

Loki dove after her, Fenrir along with him, rapidly closing the distance between himself and the now bloody water beneath him.  Despite the wind pressure drying his eyes out, he couldn’t close them.  He needed to see her, see where to aim to get to her as fast as possible.  Not that he wanted to see the horrific image of Sigyn’s body tumbling chaotically beneath the water one hundred feet below him.

He had done this.  This was his fault.  He may as well have been her murderer, ripping her to pieces.  Seven hundred years may have passed since he’d cast the death spell on the tree, but it was his magic nonetheless that had done this to her.  But it hadn’t been meant for her.  How could he have known that his perfect match would be a beautiful Vanir, let alone that he would fall in love with her when he’d been only two hundred years old at the time he cast it?  Gods, if his eyes weren’t so bloody dry, he’d be sobbing.  What was it she had once said to him?—Your end is my end.  

Nothing could be truer.  And it couldn’t have come at a more inconvenient time, not that Sigyn’s death could ever be convenient.  He’d just been crowned king, though, and there was no one to take his place.  Selfish as he had been, desiring to have the favor of Odin, desiring the throne to prove himself, he truly did fear for Asgard.  Thor had started a war with Jotunheim, and Laufey would rip Asgard apart if they had no king.  None of it mattered without her though.  She’d become his everything.  He had been telling her the dead honest truth the first night she spent in his bed.  Asgard was no longer his home—She was.

Only forty feet separated him from the water now, and he had no idea how he would survive it.  His body was probably hardier than hers, but he wasn’t confident that those falls wouldn’t rip him apart, too. 

Thirty feet.

Son of a bitch this was going to be excruciating.

Twenty feet.

But she was worth it.

Then the water froze over.  Completely.  The falls and the surface water.  Like glaciers.  From liquid to solid in all of two seconds.

What the Hel?

He barely had a chance to see the ice that was bursting from his now blue fingers.  

Well, would you look at that.  

If he was motivated enough, if he was in dire need, could he change to his Jotun form of his own will?  He’d thought it possible to transform only if he’d made contact with another frost giant or the casket of ancient winters.  Clearly, that was not the case.  He had no idea how he’d done it. 

He had only a second to ponder his Jotun heritage before crashing into the frozen surface, the weight of his five hundred pound body combining with Fenrir’s three hundred pounds breaking the ice as easily as a sharp knife would flesh.  Adrenaline coursing through his veins, seeing her unconscious and contorted body sinking, he swam to her, despite his exhaustion and injuries from the fall.  Wrapping a strong arm around her waist, he pulled her to the surface opening he’d crashed through. 

He couldn’t believe it.  He wasn’t dead.  He’d not been torn apart.  He’d been able to get to her.  And she was still in one piece.  Heart racing, he shouted at his wolf, who had jumped from the water onto the ice easily.

“QUICK, FEN!”  

The canine caught the wet hood of Sigyn’s cloak in his teeth, and with the aid of Loki pushing her up, Fenrir dragged her limp body, her face nearly bloodied beyond recognition, out of the frigid water.  Loki pulled himself up quickly, fearing the ice would melt at any moment and kill them with it.  Without hesitation, he picked up her lifeless body and ran across the frozen river, yelling for Fenrir to follow him to the cave behind the falls. 

Large cracks formed under their feet as they ran, the ice giving way beneath their heavy steps.  Loki leapt onto the rocky bank and continued running until they were safely stowed away in the cave.  Unsure how he did it, he returned to his Æsir form.  He thanked the Norns that he had, though.  It would be impossible for a frost giant to warm her, and he had very little hope of bringing her back to life frozen as she was currently.  He rid himself of his wet clothes, and stripped her naked.

“Gods, Sig, if only I had that fire of yours right now,” he hissed through his teeth, shivering painfully. 

Wrapping his body around hers, he vigorously rubbed her back and wracked his brain for the resurrection spell Frigga had taught him, despite it being extemely illegal black magic.  There was a very real possibility that the spell would kill him, but he didn’t care.  He was already dead without her.  He continued rubbing her back, and Fenrir paced around them, whining and nudging Loki’s back with his nose.  He lifted her face and put his ear to her mouth, hoping against all hope that maybe she was breathing.  She wasn’t, of course, and he could only continue trying to warm her as time continued cruelly without a thought for his dire situation.  What was the spell?  What was it?  

WHAT WAS IT?! 

Oh gods, he couldn’t remember!  He was going to lose her!  Every second that passed was one step closer to an eternity without her.  Holding his hand, palm up, he spoke an easy fire spell.  It wouldn’t be much, only a small flame, but it would be enough for her to ignite when she came back, if she came back.  She had to come back!  He spent another awful ten seconds rocking her in his arms before the spell finally came to him—YES!  Scrambling to lie her prone on the ground, he leaned over her.  One hand cupping the back of her head, the other pulling her poor bloodied lips apart, he spoke the words into her mouth.  

“Prjóna sára, þráður fyrir þráð.  Beygja beinin, rétt rangt sínum.  Slá, hjarta, enn og aftur.  Komdu aftur.  Komdu aftur.  Komdu aftur, Sigyn!”

His tears fell onto her cheeks underneath him, and he repeated the spell over and over, his voice hoarse.  Lifting her to lean against him, cradling her head, he continued to breathe into her mouth.  He wept against her, his body heaving with each choked sob, her lifeless body becoming heavier in his arms with each passing second.

“Please, Sig!  I cannot lose you!”

---

~SAME TIME, WRONG PLACE~

Staring at Asgard’s should-be-golden palace in the distance, Sigyn furrowed her brow, her eyes roaming over her surroundings.

Asgard isn’t supposed to be grey—The same sickly grey hue enveloped the entire realm.  As if in a dream, her feet were heavy as lead, rendering her immobile.  An ashen forest of thorns loomed ahead of her.  If she wanted to go to the palace, and despite its deadened appearance, she did want to, she’d have to brave the sharp thorns.  First she had to move though, and trying hard as she may, she found that it was impossible.  Disconcerted, she scanned the colorless horizon.

At least the pain is gone—Pausing at the thought, pure terror filled every cell in her paralyzed body—Wait, the pain is gone?  The pain is GONE?  

She was most certainly not dreaming.  And she was most certainly not in Valhalla.  She would have hung her head if she could move at all.  What had she expected?  Of course her final resting place would be Hel.  Any previous thoughts she’d had of Helheim and what it would look like had been entirely wrong.  It wasn’t crawling with rotting souls.  There were no sobbing corpses scattered across piles of skulls.  It wasn’t dark, nor was it a lake of fire as some mortals thought.  It was just grey.  Unending grey.  And empty.  And silent.  And she couldn’t move.  Was this it?  Was her punishment for the darkness in her heart, for the lives she’d taken, an eternity of unmoving, silent, lonely, greyness?  

She attempted to speak, but her voice was gone.  She tried to lie down (right, as though sleep would be an amenity in the realm of the dishonored dead), but found herself completely incapacitated save for the movement of her eyes.  Maybe it wouldn’t stay this way.  Maybe she was just stunned or in a dead woman’s version of shock.  Either way, she wished it would end, because something or rather, someone had just come out of the forest.  And whoever she was, she was terrifying in spite of her strange beauty.

Was this Hela?  Sigyn couldn’t help but stare at the skeletal black haired female approaching her slowly.  Hela’s silver eyes shimmered against her pale skin, her dark red lips the only color within the entire landscape, and they curled around beautiful words.  Lady Death was calling to her, and the sound was the most beautiful sound, save for Loki’s voice, that she’d ever heard.  Hela finally came to stand beside Sigyn, and she crouched down to whisper in her ear.

“Welcome, Sigyn, to your new home.  I know how you love Asgard, so I recreated it just for you.  You’ll see it for eternity!  Isn’t it just wonderful?” Hela swept her bone thin arm out, gesturing to the grey expanse, before stroking Sigyn’s face.

Seeing the realm, Loki’s realm, and yet it being out of her reach for all time was the worst imaginable agony.  She would have preferred razors under her nails.  Paralyzed she may have been, but Sigyn’s tear ducts worked just as they always had.  This really was Hel—Welcome to your eternal damnation, Sigyn.

“A kiss for you, my sweet,” Hela said, her sing song voice laced with poison.

Her dark red lips brushed across Sigyn’s gently, just a ghost of a kiss, and it left her lips burning and yet freezing cold.  Like some sick shadow of the last perfect kiss she had.  Sigyn sobbed silently, unable to move her mouth or make a sound, Loki’s face haunting her.  She would never see him again.  The image of his face screwed up with fear and the sound of him screaming after at the top of the cliff would be her last memory of him.  

Lady Death smiled (a terrifying sight indeed) before screaming suddenly and wrapping her arms around Sigyn, pulling her off the ground.  Dragging her toward the thorns, Hela struggled as Sigyn became heavier.  Something, no, someone was pulling Sigyn back.  

Turning to face the invisible force clutching her new prize, Hela screamed, “She is mine now, Dark One!”

Sigyn wanted to cover her ears.  Hela’s pretty voice had transformed into a shriek, piercing her eardrums, blood pouring down her neck and jaw as a result.  She was grateful that she couldn’t cover them though.  That voice, the one Hela was responding to, the voice echoing somewhere on the stale air, her favorite voice, stabbed through her consciousness.  

“Komdu aftur.  Komdu aftur, Sigyn!”

No longer were the dark red lips of Lady Death the only color against the grey.  Blessed, perfect, redemptive green light coiled like a snake around Sigyn’s paralyzed body.  Hela continued her high pitched shrieks as she fought against the growing force pulling Sigyn back. 

“NO!  You cannot have her!”   

The green light became solid, tangible.  Strong arms that shimmered green and blazed like fire encircled Sigyn’s waist, forcing Hela to let go lest she burn herself.  Lady Death’s screams faded as Sigyn disappeared abruptly from the realm, the arms tightening around her, the deep sorrowful begging voice of her captor, her savior, replacing the shrieks.  

“Please come back to me, love!”

---

~REGNELBRÆR FALLS, ONCE MORE~

Barely revived, Sigyn’s mind struggled to regain consciousness, but when it did, it was to the sound of rushing water.  Her fingers twitched as she became aware of the cold hard surface underneath her.  She could taste the dried blood in her mouth, and she breathed through her nose, first shallow, then becoming deeper with each breath.  The air was cold and smelled like peppermint and woodsmoke.  Oh bless—She wasn’t sure where she was, but she did know that Loki was with her.  Her eyes fluttered open, awakening the last of her senses.  She continued to breathe slowly, giving her lungs a bit more time to adjust as she looked around as much as she could without moving her head.

It was dark save for the light of a dying fire close in front of her.  She knew this place.  She’d been here before, long ago.  This was the cave behind the falls in Vanaheim.  She was alive.  She’d been in Helheim, that she knew for sure.  She had actually died.  And Loki had brought her back.  He had literally pulled her from Hela’s grip.  She blew out a shaky breath, her heart clenching in her chest, and she focused on the sensations of living again.  Breathing again.  Feeling again.

She was naked and lying on her side under a covering of sorts.  A blanket?  Maybe fur?  The stone underneath her was digging into her hip.  Her arms were curled into her chest.  She eyed them.  Gods, her wrist was covered in dark purple bruises.  Was that from Fen’s teeth?  Probably.  A well defined arm was stetched out under her head much like a pillow, another arm was wrapped around her waist, and a long leg, bent at the knee, was shoved between her thighs.  The front of a firm warm body was flush against her back.  Everything hurt, but she felt amazing with him all wrapped around her like this.  Now if only she could get a good look at him.  She wouldn’t be able to in this position.

She tried to say his name, but her voice didn’t work.  She would have touched his arm, but hers seemed paralyzed, or maybe just asleep, curled up as they were at her chest.  Somehow she managed to make her ab muscles work though, and grimacing, she turned painfully under his arm to face him.

Shit—He looked dead, still as he was.  His skin was even more pale than usual.  His neck and shoulders looked like he’d been in a cage fight with Thor’s hammer.  An angry cut stretched across his right cheekbone, marring his perfect face.  Even battered and bruised, he was still the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.  And thankfully, she could feel his chest moving against her.  Licking her lips, she tried to speak again, and this time her voice didn’t fail her.

“L-L-Loki?” she whispered, hoarse and barely audible.    

The water that had flooded her windpipe had done serious damage to her vocal chords apparently.  He didn’t respond, so she said it again, with a bit more force.  Still nothing.  Breathing hard, she forced her arm to move and reached a hand to his cheek, stroking his jaw with her thumb.  Still, he didn’t wake.  Frowning, she let her eyelids slide closed.  Maybe it was best for him to sleep, so she would let him, despite everything in her bones screaming that he needed to wake up and pull her tighter against him and say her name and kiss her.

Lying there, telling herself to be patient, she realized Fenrir was at her feet, and she glanced down.  The wolf was asleep, his fur matted with dried blood, two dead rabbits on the ground next to his belly, his paws clamped down on them.  Her eyes snapped up then at the soft shuffle behind Loki.  His gorgeous chocolate stallion, Sinir, had risen to his feet and was nudging his master’s shoulder.  She heard Loki groan then, and she bit her lip, smiling at the sound, hoping he might actually speak now.

His face screwed up, every muscle, every bone aching. “Not now, Sin,” he muttered, not bothering to open his eyes.

Pulling her body tighter against him, he was completely unaware that she had moved to face him.  He had every intention to fall back asleep.  He’d literally been to Hel and back, and he was too gods damn exhausted to deal with his horse begging for a ride, or whatever it was he wanted.  Loki didn’t know.  He didn’t care.  He just wanted to sleep.  More than that he wanted her to wake up.  His nerves were eating him from the inside out the longer she slept.  As if on cue, he heard her voice.

“Loki?”   

His eyes snapped open, and his breath hitched.  She was looking up at him.  Those stunning grey green eyes he’d thought he would never see again were open and staring at him.

“Sig?” he asked, his voice cracking on that one syllable as his eyes filled with tears.  She was alive.  The spell had worked.  He couldn’t believe it.  Her voice was just a whisper when she finally spoke, but no words had ever sounded more loudly in his ears.  

“You came for me?”

He scoffed.  Was she mad?

“Of course I came for you, Sig!  Of course I did,” he whispered against her skin as he smothered her face with kisses. “I am so in love with you.”

Her eyes blew wide.  She couldn’t believe her ears.  He’d said it.  He’d actually, finally said it.  

“You’re in love with me?” she asked, not because she didn’t believe him, but she just needed to hear him say it again.   

“Madly, I’m afraid,” he said around a smile and moved his mouth to hers, not caring that the gash across his lips was still sensitive.  

Breathing heavily, ignoring the pain in every joint, every muscle, every bone, she kissed him back fervently before pulling away to speak.

“Why didn’t youー”  

Her words were lost under his kiss.  Shaking his head, he gasped into her mouth, feeling as though he couldn’t pull her close enough.

“I should’ve said it long ago.  I promise you, love, that I felt it all along.”

Running his hand that was on her back up into her hair, he hissed.  Fuck, his muscles were screaming at him to stop moving so much.  So he did.  But not because he was in pain, but because if he was in pain, that meant she was probably in agony.  Hesitant to hurt her further, he loosened his grip, putting some space between them.

“How do you feel?” he asked, biting his lip, fighting the urge to crash his mouth against hers. 

Taking a deep breath, she moved her hand from his cheek up into his hair, pulling herself closer, upset that he’d put even an inch of space between them.

“I’ve honestly never been happier in my life,” she said, leaning in to kiss his neck slowly, ignoring the pain it caused.

Fenrir awoke at their voices and moved from her feet.  The wolf rolled his eyes, and Sigyn had to smile.  She didn’t know animals could even do that.  Grabbing the rabbits with his teeth, he dropped them near the small flame that Loki had conjured earlier and ran out of the cave.  Sinir snorted and followed him out.  

“They do know how to take a hint,” she said between weak chuckles as Loki rolled them, situating himself between her legs.

Sliding his hand up her thigh, he bent his head to kiss her, his raven locks tumbling down and curtaining them.    

“I thought I’d lost you,” he rasped against her lips.

Kissing him back soundly, she pulled him into her, not caring that his hips were jutting into her bruised inner thighs.

“You did lose me,” she gasped, wincing at the pain.

Seeing the grimace on her face, he pulled out and lifted his weight off her. 

“Sig, I don’t want to hurt you.”  

Wrapping her legs more tightly around his waist, she wrapped her hands around the back of his neck.

“You just brought me back from death, Loki.  I want this.  I want you.  And I refuse to wait another second.”  

Relieved at her words, for he hadn’t wanted to wait either, he smiled broadly and did as he was told.  With the roll of his hips, her fire finally awakened just as her body had a few moments prior.  The small flame that he’d conjured flickered and grew into a roaring blaze.

FALLEN CONTINUES IN CHAPTER TWO: I’LL PROTECT YOU FROM EVERYTHING.

Visit the Trilogy main page HERE.

Fallen Chapters: ¹ Come Back to Me, Sig. ² I’ll Protect You From Everything ³ Let’s Just See How This Plays Out ⁴ When Did I Get So Soft? ⁵ Bring Me Home (But Not to This) ⁶ Death is Everywhere ⁷ The Bridge ⁸ The Desert ⁹ Remember Remember (It Hurts Like Hel) ¹⁰ Green is for Life ¹¹ I Don’t Make Deals With Monsters ¹² Rain Rain, Go Away ¹³ Are You Ready? ¹⁴ I Will Find You

CHAPTER ONE THEME SONG:

“Fairy Tale” by NLSN ft. Illan Green

What Readers Have Said

About CH 1 “Come Back to Me, Sig.”

“I must say, I really really really love this story so far. I’m very glad Loki’s resurrection spell worked and that they’re together again, finally! Can’t wait (as usual) to see what happens next. This chapter is like a piece of gold and your other stories are the diamonds that holds everything together!!!”

-Maïté, on CH 1 “Come Back to Me, Sig.” , 09 Sep 2019 (AO3)

“I’m thrilled Loki saved Sig and finally told her he loves her. Hela, however chills me to the bone. I can’t bear the thought that even if they have a long life ahead of them, they are condemned to Hela’s eternal torment.”

-Ferbette, on CH 1 “Come Back to Me, Sig.” , 10 Jan 2021 (AO3)

“I’m going to have to take a nap now from the emotional rollercoaster I have just staggered off of.”

-HarryPotterFreakie, on CH 1 “Come Back to Me, Sig.” , 26 Aug 2021 (AO3)

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