The room that Kyaer led Sigyn to was, in a word, huge.  Fresh evergreen garland hung from the aged bronze posters of the bed, which could have given sleep to six full-grown Asgardians comfortably.  Plush copper hued silk adorned its surface.  Idly, she ran her fingers over the silk.  If it were black, it would be perfect.

She rolled her eyes.

Really, Sigyn?

Asgard’ s royal family was giving her an entire suite of rooms, and she was complaining about the color scheme?  She continued her curious roaming as Kyaer swung open a set of doors on the other side of the room.

“I’ll draw you a bath to prepare you for dinner,” the young servant said.

Sigyn frowned.  She had already bathed not three hours prior and smelled good enough; she would have preferred to peruse the shelves of the massive bookcase, but she followed the girl into the washroom, nonetheless.  Eyes wide, her jaw dropped.

For the love….

The bath that had been built into the gleaming tiled floor was the size of a swimming pool for heaven’s sake.  Never in her nine hundred years had she seen such an audacious display of wealth.  But what had she expected?  This was the palace of Asgard, for Hel’s sake.  Once Kyaer had given her some privacy, Sigyn stripped and washed herself quickly, avoiding getting her hair wet.  She grabbed a towel to cover herself up and walked back into the bedroom looking for a wardrobe.  Spotting a large cherry armoire, she opened its massive doors and frowned at the rainbow glaring back at her.

Disheartened, she turned to Kyaer. “Is there nothing darker?  I might rather put on the dress I wore earlier.”

She did not relish looking like some delicate little flower waiting to be plucked for she was most certainly nothing of the sort.  Shaking her head, Kyaer pulled a slightly darker green gown from the rod.

“I’m sorry, milady, but I’ve already sent your dress off for a cleaning.  Will this do?  If you’re looking for something darker than the lovely wardrobe that has been provided so generously to you, this is your best option, I’m afraid.”

Clearing her throat, Sigyn ignored the insinuation that she was ungrateful, which to be fair, she was, and took the dress.

“I’ll just put this on in the washroom,” she said with a half-hearted smile.

“No, no, ma’am, let me help you,” Kyaer said, following her.

Sigyn waved her off and closed the door.

“It’s fine, I’ve got it.  It’s just a bit more lowcut than I’m used to,” she said, frowning at the low neckline of the bodice once she pulled it on.

“That’s the back, miss,” Kyaer said, concern (and amusement) lacing her tone when Sigyn walked out.

“Ohhhhh,” she said, cheeks burning as she attempted to twist the fabric around her body and failing miserably.

“Would you please let me help you?”

Sighing heavily, Sigyn stopped fussing with the fabric and nodded, allowing Kyaer to readjust the dress.  Once it was fastened properly, she gave herself a once over in the floor length bronze gilt mirror leaning against the opposite wall.  Well, at least the actual neckline wasn’t as low as the back, but it was still lower than she typically wore.  It wasn’t all bad, though.

There were no constricting ties like there were on Vanir dresses to inhibit her breathing, and if she had to pick a color, a shade of green would have been her first choice.  Thankfully, the hemline was shorter in the front so at least she didn’t have to fear tripping over the skirt.  Gods, how humiliating that would have been.  She could see it now, falling flat on her face in front of…. oh…. what was his name again?  Oh, right.  

Loki.

His face flashed across her vision, and she bit into smile, zoning out entirely, imagining what his voice sounded like, how it would feel to tangle her fingers in his hair, how his hands would feel in hers, what his neck smelled like, how big his-

“Oh, and do not fear wearing green, ma’am,” Kyaer said suddenly, “I’m sure Prince Loki won’t be offended if you wear his color since you are a guest.  Are you alright?”

Taking a deep breath, Sigyn held her chest, and forced a smile and nodded.  She’d been so lost in her own head that she’d clean forgotten Kyaer was even there, and the woman’s abrupt voice had scared the living daylights out of her.  Not to mention the fact that the woman had broken into her thoughts about the younger prince by talking about the younger prince.

“You startled me, that’s all,” she said, waving a hand. “And I didn’t know green was his color.  Is that bad?”

What did that even mean?  His color?  What, did he have some claim to green?  Was no one allowed to wear green except him?

“No, it’s not bad,” Kyaer shrugged. “It’s just, well, usually when a noblewoman attends a royal dinner, she only wears either of the princes’ colors if she means to …. um …. tempt him.”

Sigyn blew out a breath and rolled her eyes.  Well, wasn’t that just wonderful.  Certainly, if there was anyone that she wanted attention from, it would be Loki, but she didn’t want to be obvious about it.  She chewed her lip.  Maybe she should wear blue or something.  Oh, this was just ridiculous.  She liked the green.  She wasn’t wearing it for his benefit.  If she switched dresses, then she would be doing it for him.  Just …. in a reverse type of way.

“I’m sure he won’t read into it if I don’t make a fuss over it,” she said with a shrug.

The shrug was a good call.  She was the picture of nonchalance.  Loki who?

“Would you like me to help you put up your hair?” Kyaer offered.

“No, no thank you.  I only pull it away from my face when I’m riding or in the training arena at home, or here now, I guess.  If they’ll let me use it,” she said, unconsciuosly running a hand through her hair.

“Training arena?  Are you a warrior then?”

“Yes, I guess you could say that.” Sigyn smiled brightly, glad to have something to talk about rather than moon over some prince. “I’m fairly good with swords and daggers, but the bow is my favorite.”

Kyaer looked genuinely interested. “I have some experience with swords.”

“You do?  Do they let you use the arena?  Or is there somewhere else?”

Before Kyaer could answer, someone knocked on the door.

“That’ll be your escort, ma’am,” the girl said, looking somewhat disappointed as she opened the door where a yellow caped guard stood waiting.

“Lady Sigyn, I am to escort you to the night meal,” he said.

Smiling apologetically at Kyaer, Sigyn gave her a little wave as she followed the guard into the hall.

Walking through the corridor, Sigyn smiled at the still as statues royal guards that stood at attention every other pillar.  They didn’t smile back.  What an incredibly dull life they must have led.

She came to the end of the hall where the sounds of dishes clanking and howling laughter grew steadily louder, and two guards moved from their posts in front of another pair of lavish and lofty doors to allow her to join the nobles and royal family in the dining hall.  Unsurprisingly, the sheer mass of the hall was more akin to a ballroom.

The waxed black marble floor was a work of art with an inlaid mosaic in the shape of Yggdrasil, perfect in its likeness to the great tree that was home to the nine realms.  An open-air semicircular balcony extended from the end of the room, displaying Asgard’s snow covered beauty.  Smoothly sanded circular pillars etched with gold and silver filigree scrollwork rose to the fifty-foot heights where cherry stained rafters supported the vaulted ceiling.  Low hanging bronze pendants descended from the towering ceiling, bathing the great hall in dim golden candlelight.  The finest Vanir cathedrals would be green with envy.

GREEN...?

She looked down at her dress and rolled her eyes.  Just when she’d blissfully forgotten about the color, now it was back at the forefront of her mind.  Head up, shoulders back, she looked from stranger to stranger as the guard led her to wherever she would be sitting, which once she was there, turned out to be right next to Loki.  He was clad in the same body-hugging black leather from earlier and was (oh thank heavens) talking to his mother on his other side.

She wasn’t ready to utter one word to the man yet.  Yet, at the same time, she really wanted to just get it over with.  Break the ice.  Rip off the bandage…

…and his clothes.

She nodded her thanks to the guard as he pulled her chair out, wincing as it scraped across the floor loudly.  Predictably, Loki turned at the sound and made instant eye contact with her.  Honestly, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when his eyes dropped to her dress, a smirk appearing on his face.  She pulled her hair out from behind her ear, so it could form something of a curtain to hide her ridiculous blush and offered a small “hello” to him as she gracefully sat down next to him.

“Hello,” he said back with a smile, leaning forward a bit, as though trying to see around her hair.

Swallowing nervously, she blew out a slow breath.  Her heart rate was through the roof.

Oh, I might melt into a puddle at his feet right here because apparently his voice is perfect, too.

His smile grew at the sound of her thoughts.  So, she liked his voice.  That was a good start.  Dammit.  He needed to stop reading her mind.  It really was rude.

But oh, so fun.

He cut into the roasted pheasant on his plate and took the politest bite she’d seen from a man, his chewing slow and silent.  She discreetly watched the lean muscles of his jaw and Adam’s apple as he swallowed.  For the love, he even made eating look sexy.

He threw his head back and laughed out loud, which earned him quite a few odd looks in his direction.  The laugh was devolving into shoulder shaking giggles, and if he hadn’t been so focused on her thoughts, he would have been genuinely embarrassed.  He needed her to stop thinking about him so loudly.  She was making it near impossible for him to be respectful of her mental privacy, what with her currently screaming that his laugh made her want to climb into his lap and yank his head back by his hair.

Clearing his throat, he shifted in his seat as her thoughts became more…. graphic.  Truly, he needed to put a stop to this.  He placed his hand on her right knee, green eyes burning into hers, which had blown wide at the sudden movement.

“Your name is Sigyn, yes?”

Dropping her eyes to look at his hand then back up to his face, she swallowed and nodded.  The way he said her name, so deep and smooth and absurdly enticing, was sending shivers down her spine.  In fact, she might just be stupid enough to let him have her right there on the table if he asked.

He looked sideways, wondering how bad it would be if he did ask to have her on the table.  Better not.  Blinking rapidly, he shook the images from his head and looked at her from underneath his brow.  Shit, he was probably about to ruin everything.

“I think it is only fair that I inform you of my ability to read minds.”

The shift in the air was palpable, and it made his insides twist nervously.  In one instant she went from aroused to angry.

Face burning with embarrassment, she blinked back tears.  The blood rushing through her ears was positively deafening.  He had been listening to her thoughts, all of which had involved his mouth and hands and tongue and all his other parts, and despite her fervent desire to slap him hard for his cruel trick, she still wanted to grab his face and shove her tongue in his mouth.  Now that she knew he was listening, she felt like an absolute idiot.  Really, it was so obvious now.   She could see him reacting to her thoughts.  After that last one about wanting to slap him and kiss him, he bit his lip so hard she thought it might bleed.  Fine.  There was no getting her dignity back at this point, so maybe she could have a little fun, too.

Eyes flashing, she thought long and hard about the awful (amazing) things she would do to him and snapped, “Forgive me for my lurid thoughts.”

Smirking at the little groan that he couldn’t quite suppress, she looked away from him and took the goblet of mead a servant offered to her.  She took a sip and cringed at the sickeningly sweet beverage.  Was there no wine made from grapes?  She gulped it down quickly, gagging at the taste, in hopes of easing her nerves.  Setting down the drink, and turning back to him, she lifted her eyes to his again, though his gaze wandered to her mouth.

“I think you are perhaps as dark in nature as I am, Sigyn,” he said quietly.

It took a great deal of effort for him to tear his eyes away from her bottom lip, so plump, so red, so perfect, but he managed to look back at her eyes, which deserved their own praise as well.  Grey green storm clouds wished they were as awe-inducing as her eyes.  He wanted to see those eyes slide close, those lips part, that gorgeous hair knotted in his hand as he-

Norns.

He bit the insides of his cheeks.  It was a good thing she couldn’t read his mind.  Swallowing hard, he allowed himself a moment of weakness and dropped his gaze to the low neckline of her dress, and his grip on her thigh tightened.

“I have to ask, was that lovely dress for my benefit?”

His eyes came back up to hers, and she set her jaw.  She felt weak and powerless under his gaze, and for the first time that night, she became truly angry, with no hint of lust to color it.  No one who knew her would have called her weak, and they most certainly knew she wasn’t powerless.  Quite the opposite truthfully.  Gathering her wits, with no small amount of effort, she narrowed her eyes and pushed his hand back to his own lap.

“No,” she said curtly. “The green is only a coincidence.” That was the truth, and she was damn glad for it. “It was not my intention to bewitch you, Your Highness,” she continued. “For your sake, I shall avoid green in the future.”

Happy with herself for not allowing him to get the better of her with those ridiculously green eyes, or his voice, or his smile, or anything else of his, she grabbed an apple from a servant’s tray as he passed.  She turned away from him and sat back casually in her chair, one elbow resting on the back.  She wasn’t weak.  She wasn’t powerless.

He wanted to scoff at being rebuffed, but he didn’t.  She was genuinely angry at him.  He didn’t need to listen to her thoughts to figure out that one.  He’d been honest, had he not?  He could have just listened and used her mind against her, but he didn’t now, did he.  Why would she get him all worked up, and then just stop?  She’d been the one thinking of being taken by him on the damn table, and now this?  Angry rejection?  No, she may have lost her dignity earlier, but he hadn’t lost his.  He moved his mouth to her ear, enjoying the shiver his breath pulled from her.

“You think yourself capable of bewitching me?” he asked, not kindly.

Eyes narrowing, he shook his head.

“You are no match for me, Sigyn.  Set your sights lower,” he warned, then put as much distance between them as their seats would allow and returned his focus to his plate.  

Pulling her hair back out from behind her ear again, she blinked back humiliating tears.  Set her sights lower?  It was like being kicked in the chest, and her heart dropped into her stomach.

---

Throughout the rest of the dinner, the mismatched pair picked at the food on their plates in silence, not sparing each other a second’s glance.  No warmth radiated from his body, strangely enough, and it bothered her greatly.  He made no sound other than the slight rustle of his leather clad arms as he sparingly lifted minuscule bites to his mouth.

Her newfound knowledge of his telepathic abilities had her on edge.  She was unable to allow her mind to wander, and by the end of the meal, she was completely exhausted.  The task of controlling those thoughts, the force required to focus on anything other than the one thing that she desperately wanted to, had given her a terrible headache.  She started at the sudden movement to her right, taking her from her focus.

Loki had tossed his napkin on the plate, letting out an annoyed and exasperated sigh, and she risked turning her head to look at him.  He did not acknowledge her presence and downright ignored her by turning his body away and starting a quiet conversation with his mother.  Was he truly that childish?  She allowed her mind to wander freely then.  It was liberating and relieving to do so, as though breaching the surface of the sea after nearly drowning.  He suddenly sat up straighter and turned his head sharply, his profile now visible to her.

I suppose reading minds isn’t always flattering, she thought as loudly as possible just for his sake.

She’d made a bet with herself that he’d been attuned to her every strand of thought.  Perhaps that was why he sounded so annoyed− listening desperately, trying to find himself within those thoughts, and coming up completely empty.  Hm… maybe he should set his sights lower.  She didn’t need him.  Just then, a new voice pulled her from her frustrated musings. 

“Lady Sigyn, is it?” The question came from behind her left shoulder, and she turned to see a dashing smile displayed across a handsome face.

She grinned, one corner of her mouth raising slightly higher than the other, then arched a black eyebrow at the blond man who was bent down on one knee.

“Yes, it is.  And how may I address you, good sir?”

Ugh— “good sir?”  She only said it because other women here spoke like that, and it sounded all kinds of ridiculous coming out of her mouth.  Lesson learned.

He pulled her hand to his mouth for a quick kiss. “You may call me Fandral, my lady.  I am one of the Warriors Three, close friends with Thor and Sif and…um…” he cleared his throat “…Loki…when he allows such sentiment.  I must admit, I have been unable to focus on anything other than you, and I desire your attention, if only for a bit.  Would you give it?”

The confident smile fell slightly as his eyebrows raised in question, and she noticed the flick of his eyes for a half second in Loki’s direction, who had turned his head back to the queen, giving an award-winning performance of nonchalance.  She could literally hear Loki bristle at the man’s romantic efforts.

So that’s how we’re going to play this, prince boy?  FINE.

Smiling widely, she pushed her chair back, and rising to her feet, she grabbed Fandral’s hand, pulling him back to his seat further down the table.  Volstagg stood, offering her his chair, which she took gladly, flirting openly with Fandral while sneaking glances at Loki.  He was talented in his act, supposedly ignoring the exchange between the blond warrior and the dark beauty.

Eventually however, he dared to look at the bold Vanir and caught her gaze at one point when Fandral turned to address Sif.  Loki listened to their utterly boring words about who had bested who in the training grounds earlier, and with a clenched jaw, he stood abruptly and excused himself.  He bent and kissed his mother’s hair before strutting across the hall, purposefully behind the Warriors Three where he accidentally shoved Fandral with his shoulder.  The four friends glared at him as he shot Sigyn a searing glance before exiting the hall.  He’d said she was no match for him.  Damn.  He hated being wrong.