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Chapter Text

Loki was at his lowest, still remembering the battle against the Jotun army, and Algrim’s death. Algrim had been his father adviser and closest friend for centuries, yet, he had betrayed the Golden realm, and rebelled against the AllFather.

The Prince felt anxiety rise inside his chest thinking about the Dark elf and his ultimate betrayal of Asgard. The worst part was he understood him. Loki had killed him, as he was a threat to the realm, to his father, to his whole family… but he understood. The youngest Odinson had always admired Algrim’s intelligence and discernment. A bright mind, well-read, and loyal to the AllFather, it had seemed, until that fateful day. But if what he had said was true, if Odin had truly caused the Dark Elves’ demise, then… What would Loki had done at his place? If some foreign king had killed his family, wouldn’t he want revenge?

The answer was clear: he would have done exactly the same thing as Algrim. He would have been enraged. He would have sworn revenge, and stolen Sutur’s sword, and wanted nothing but the AllFather’s death and Asgard’s fall. Maybe it was the reason why Loki had to kill him. Because he understood him too well.

It had been three centuries since his mother’s death, he had felt more alone and isolated than ever. He still remembered the day where he had come to her chambers to say goodbye. The Queen had insisted for them to be alone, and she had told him how much she loved him and regretted not being able to continue their magic lessons. For years now, the Queen’s health had deteriorated, and people wondered why and how. There had been rumors of enemies of Asgard, wolves hidden and disguised as sheep, poisoning the AllMother’s food. Loki had investigated, but never found anything, which was frustrating. If someone had been hurting his mother, he wanted to punish them and throw them into the darkest pits of Nilfheim. The Prince had been desperate, seeing the Queen’s life slip away. He had felt powerless – to protect her, to save her. On her last day, she had made him promise her he would take good care of his brother, and always watch out for him and their family. He was trying his best, but obviously, it had not been enough.

Now, he was wearing a yellow cape to honor her. But that was not enough.

Had Algrim been the one behind the poisoning of the AllMother? Loki could not say. It did not seem to be his style, but then again, a few days ago, he would have sworn he was his Father’s best friend and most trustworthy ally. In truth, you could not trust anyone.

Not even the Dwarves’ skills, it seemed. Thor’s sword had been their mother’s last gift to her eldest son. And it was pretty, and shiny, all things the Golden warrior liked. However, it was not good enough, Loki decided. He had exaggerated the deficiency of the weapon to spare his brother’s feelings when the Einherjar had defeated him, however, he had not been lying. The Dwarves could have made a much better work. Time to visit them and demand a new sword – maybe not as legendary as Sutur, but just as fierce and commanding. A sword worthy of Asgard’s Golden Prince, one he could trust to protect his reckless sibling. He could not always be there, after all, even though he hoped he would, if only to honor the promise he had made to their mother.

Nidavellir was not very pretty at this period of the year. Actually, Nidavellir was never pretty, whatever the time. A deep, tick fog seemed to always reign on the Dwarves realm, created by the smokes from the different great forges, working night and day, creating new treasures for the AllFather, and whoever would pay the best. But they already had their gold- plenty of it, the sword’s price, from the AllMother. Now, they needed to prove they were truly worthy of their reputation. Iwaldi and his sons were supposed to be the best, after all. They could make Thor a better sword, and they would, or they would pay the price for displeasing Asgard.

 Suddenly, he was distracted from his dark thoughts by some delicious smells. Someone was cooking, or rather baking something mouth-watering, and Loki had to know what it was, and when he could eat it. Soon, he hoped, as he was getting famished.

Strangely enough, the freshly-baked smells came from Iwaldi’s shop. It was peculiar, as it was not the usual perfume one would imagine coming from such place. Entering the boutique, Loki heard the little bell that alerted the shop-keeper of his presence. No one came at first, and the Prince was tempted to venture inside the private quarters, looking for the delicious pies. However, he stopped himself, as he could not help but admire the dwarves’ work, displayed on the shelves and counters for the patrons’ eyes to marvel at. Some of their jewelry pieces were worthy of Freya’s halls, and he actually could understand why the goddess would have done anything to get her hands on such wonder. One little broach in particular, in the form of a bird, with a small pearl in its beak, caught his attention.

“Oh, hello! Welcome to Iwaldi’s shop”, a feminine voice called, “How may I be of service?”

One lovely blonde-haired girl was standing near the knives section, with a warm pie in her hands. Ah. He had found his baker, then. Loki wondered what he was the most hungry for: the girl or the pie. Both seemed like the most promising meal, and such a delicious way to change his ideas and forget for a moment about the sword or Algrim.

“Yes, you may”, Loki cooed, trying to conceal his sinful desires behind a friendly smile, “I am looking for Iwaldi and his sons”

The girl laughed and put her pie aside, clapping her hands, in a way that meant business to the dwarves.

“My father and brothers are not here, my Lord, but I am a skilled smith”, she claimed proudly, “Whatever they can do, so can I”

Loki tilted his head a little, surprised, but enjoying this confidence in the young girl. Well, if she was truly Iwaldidottir, there was a possibility she had inherited his talents, after all. It was then that Loki noticed the most beautiful sword, hanging on the walls of the shop’s private quarters. Forgetting his manners, the prince passed the pretty shopkeeper, and entered the most domestic room he had ever seen in his entire life. Who would have thought Dwarves were the domestic kind, and liked comfortable armchairs, with pink cushions, and paintings of pretty Vanir landscapes?

Of course, Loki recalled. Iwaldi had been married at some point to the Vanir queen Freya, had he not? And seeing the girl’s pretty blue eyes and blonde hair, it was rather obvious who her mother was. Honestly, he had been blind and quite a fool not to make the connection.

“My Lord”, the girl wailed, “you can not come inside! These are our private quarters, not for the patrons!”

“Indeed, princess”, Loki said, bowing respectfully, “I just wanted to admire the sword you have hanging on the wall”

The Prince pointed at the beautiful weapon, forged in uru, with golden runes engraved, and incrusted with emeralds on its hilt. The pommel had two silvery snakes whose eyes were rubies and seemed to be looking directly at you, in a daring manner. Now, that was something. A sword worthy of a king, or at the very least, worthy of a son of Odin! Whoever had forged it was a master and an artist, indeed, and Loki needed to meet the man and buy his masterpiece at once.

“Ah”, Iwaldi’s daughter said, “Yes, it’s quite good, isn’t it? My best work, or so my father says”

She giggled, suddenly shy, lowering her gaze, as her cheeks took a very nice shade of pink.

“Nabbi and Daenne were so jealous!”, she recalled with much amusement, “They always make the best weapons, the shiniest jewels, well, not this time! This time, it was I father congratulated. It was so nice to be noticed for once, you know what I mean?”   

Oh, Loki perfectly understood the feeling. Odin had always favored Thor quite openly, even though the second prince knew his father did love him. There were days when he felt invisible, always in Thor’s shadow, never the one to be applauded or admired. Yet, since their mother’s death, and his promise to her to always look out for his brother, he had tried to smother his jealousy and always insure the Golden Prince’s victory. Looking at the sword again, it was quite clear the little princess was just as skilled as her siblings, and deserved as much praise and honor as they received.

“May I?”, he asked, giving the weapon she had forged a look of pure inquisitiveness and wonder.

The smith laughed and nodded, lowering the sword with magic, until it was within his reach.

Snakes, emeralds, runes… Oh, this would have been the perfect sword for him, wouldn’t it? But it was for Thor. Yes. He was looking for the best sword for his brother, not for himself. His heart winced a little at the idea, but he remembered his promise to their mother, and sighed. Yes. Thor’s sword. He would like it, and with reason. It was truly perfect.

“And it’s not all!”, his new friend said happily.

Taking the sword from his hands, she grabbed its pommel, and under Loki’s eyes, the blade took fire. It was amazing to say the least. No wonder Iwaldi had been proud of his daughter. That sword was maybe not as legendary as Sutur’s, but it had the potential to be just as fierce.

Thor would not like it. He would love it and cherish it. It was the perfect gift, the one their mother would have wanted Loki to give Thor.

The second Prince sighed in defeat. If he could not have the sword, at least, he could have some pie.

The maiden had put down her pastry to show him her work, so of course, the sweet-smelling dessert had been left unattended, as if it had been waiting for Loki to eat, which he did, conjuring a golden spoon, and sitting down on the pink cushions to enjoy the one thing he could take for himself. He smiled as the delightful taste conquered his mouth, sending wondrous signals of pleasure to his brain. Well, his little smith was quite skilled in pie-baking too it seemed. He then remembered how much his mother had liked her sweets, and how the young lady would have probably been called sooner or later as her lady-in-waiting. She would have enjoyed her company and numerous accomplishments, Loki knew it, and even more her delicious desserts. The Prince sighed, letting down his spoon a moment, as melancholy took over him. It might have been centuries since the queen had passed away, but he still missed his mother.

“Oh!”, the girl exclaimed, as she saw her guest eating her pie, “but this was for Daenne’s birthday!”

Loki looked at this stolen pastry, half-eaten, and smiled innocently. He could lie, of course, find a scapegoat or an excuse, but he had been caught in the act, red-handed, and strangely enough, he did not want to lie to the maiden.

“It looked so delicious, and I was so hungry, I could not resist”, Loki confessed, with his most charming smile, “but my lady, you have still to tell me your name”

The young girl’s anger seemed to vanish as quickly as it had come. He was lucky she did not seem to hold grudges easily, or she could make him pay a high price for that pie.

“My name is Sigyn Iwaldidottir, nice to meet you!”, she said kindly, “What is yours?”

Loki bowed in front of the girl. She was a princess of Nidavellir, after all, and if he was right – and when was he not?- she was probably Freya’s daughter too. So a princess of Vanaheim? Well, how well met, indeed.

“I am Prince Loki of Asgard, my Lady”, he introduced himself, with all the pomp and decorum his lineage deserved.

Sigyn gasped, and curtsied immediately, mumbling apologies in a clumsy but sweet fashion, trembling a little at the revelation she had been talking to the son of Odin. Her cheeks were lightly reddened, and she was pursing her lips in embarrass, in a quite innocent manner. Loki could not resist such a lovely picture. Suddenly, he crashed his own mouth onto hers, and his sweet lady gasped, before sliding her elegant arms around his neck.

Well. It was going to be a night to remember, and from that first kiss, Loki knew it would not be the last. But duty first, he remembered, though he would have enjoyed very much a few more kisses from his beloved. He still needed that sword of hers for Thor, after all.

“Sweet Sigyn, the sword your brothers made for Thor was not worthy of their reputation”, he started, trying to stay gallant, while negotiating for the best price, “On the other hand, the one you forged is a masterpiece. How much does it cost?”

The young maiden blushed deeply, playing nervously with her hands, taking a few steps back, shyly, leaving his embrace, which confused the Prince.

“I cannot sell you this sword, your highness”, she whispered, her gaze still low, and her voice deep with emotion.

“But you must”, Loki insisted, “I will gift it to my brother Thor, he will love it and use it only to defend the innocent and slay monsters. His glory will be yours, as you will have forged his most trusted and favorite weapon”

However, Sigyn was quite stubborn on the matter, refusing to even listen to Loki’s arguments, stamping her foot fiercely on the floor, like a capricious little girl who knew better than the adults in the room…

Loki was losing patience. The girl was pretty, but her dwarf side was showing now, her obstinacy being far from cute. It was just a sword after all, why wouldn’t she sell it to him? Or was it because he had not told her how much gold he would give her?

Dwarves and their greed, honestly. With an elegant gesture, Loki conjured five full bags of gold, and a few trinkets that were sure to catch a young maiden’s eye. Yet, Sigyn seemed unmoved by such treasures. What more did she want? Ah… maybe a few more kisses? But when Loki tried to take her back into his arms, the proud Vanir pushed him away. What was wrong with this girl?

“I could not sell you that sword for all the gold in the Nine realms, your highness”, she started, looking once again bashful, “You see, I will give this sword to my husband on our wedding day”

Loki tilted his head and laughed. He understood better now. But she was much too young to get married.

“That won’t happen before long, of course!”, Sigyn continued, as if she was reading his mind, “More likely in a few centuries”

Well, it was all very sweet, but Loki could not wait for a few centuries. He needed that sword now : Thor would be safer with such a magnificent blade by his side, and Loki would feel much better, knowing he had done his duty and respected their mother’s dying wish.

On the other hand, he did not want to break such a lovely maiden’s heart… But she was a skillful smith and she had time. She could make a new one, couldn’t she? One for his brother, and one for the fortunate fellow she would marry…

For a moment, Loki wondered who it would be, before remembering that royal princesses were often married off against their wishes to some foreign prince or high-born lord, and he felt his heart ache at the thought.

He reassured himself, after all, Iwaldi and Freya would not sell her off to some old idiot, who would abuse her or beat her, blind to the preciousness of the jewel he had been given. No. They would probably give her to someone like Thor… And this, strangely, did not seem to please him either. Ignoring his better judgement, he quicky took Sigyn back into his arms, caressing softly her face.

“I hope you marry some charming prince that will fall madly in love with you, my sweet”, he purred into her ear, before claiming her lips once again. The girl’s eyes had shone bright when he had kissed her, but when she opened them again, he was gone, and so was her priceless sword.

Loki was not proud of what he had done. He sat down on his bed for a while, looking at the stolen weapon in all its splendor. Norns, it was beautiful… nearly as beautiful as the princess who had forged it, his guilty conscience accused him.

Did Thor really need that sword? Well, it was a bit late to wonder about that… But now that Loki had it in his possession, he felt a sense of possessiveness growing inside of him. He wanted the best weapon for his brother, that was true. He wanted to keep his word to their mother. However, how could he give this treasure to anyone, even to Thor? How could he live without it within his reach, free to admire it and wield it whenever he wanted? Now that he had it, he wanted to keep it, it was as simple as that.

Thor had plenty of other toys. Why would he need another one? The AllFather was probably going to give him some other weapon forged by the dwarves, one that might even surpass Sigyn’s sword.

Yes, yes. Thor would get another, while he… Loki sighed, caressing thoughtfully the magical runes engraved on the blade. He would never have such a treasure in his hall, so delightful and precious… For a moment, the prince pondered if he was thinking of the sword or of its maker, before deciding to call it Laevatein, and keep it safely, in a place hidden from everyone, including his father.

Chapter Text

For as long as Sigyn could remember, her mother’s dream had been to be Queen of Asgard. When she was young, Freya had been betrothed to Odin, but alas, the Vanir wars had ruined everything, and in the end, the then Prince of Asgard had picked a Vanir lady from a noble family that had helped the Aesirs – such traitors!

Freya had hated Frigga since then, hoping  and praying and sending curses, so the Queen would meet an early demise.

When news of the AllMother’s death had reached Vanaheim, Sigyn had stopped breathing for a moment, looking at her mother, anxiety growing in her chest. Had it truly worked? Or was it all a coincidence? She could not say, but the hate the Vanir Queen held against the Aesir one was well known in the Nine realms. What if some scheming courtier pointed it out to the AllFather? What if one day soon a troop of Einherjar barged in Sessrumnir, accusing her mother of murder and high-treason? What then?

Would the Vanir wars start again, or would the Asgardians just crush their former allies and friends? They would. Of course, they would. No one had forgotten how Bor had killed off Laufey’s line, and replaced them with Thrymr as King of Jotunheim. Her uncle Feyr had been telling her stories about the Wars and what terrible casualties they brought to the realms and their people. Devastation, rape, famine, some dreadful illnesses too, due to the rotting corpses left untended, spreading death quicker than the winds of Alfheim. They had to avoid this at all cost. After the Vanir wars, the AllFather had forbid them to keep any armed force on Vanaheim, warning them this would be seen as a threat and high treason.

What about gossiping against the Queen and wishing her ill openly? Of course, Sigyn liked gossip – who in their right mind did not? It was a fun way to gather information, while enjoying tea and a slice of pie. However, this was to be enjoyed in private, behind closed doors, so when you spoke unkind words about a person, no one but your confident could hear you. You could still get betrayed if you were not careful, but to shout publicly your hatred for someone so powerful was pure folly. Queen Frigga had never seemed to care, letting Freya say whatever she wanted- which enraged the Vanir queen even more. Nevertheless, now, they would have to deal with Odin and his sons, and it was pretty obvious they would be less conciliant that the AllMother had been.

Sigyn suddenly blushed, thinking of her Odinson, and how he had stolen her sword and a kiss. How handsome he had been, standing in her father’s shop, wielding her sword as it had been meant to be his from the start. Maybe it had. Maybe the Norns had meant that this beautiful and elegant young lord would one day become her husband. Gods, she hoped they did. Sigyn blushed and giggled, as the feeling of his lips – soft yet demanding- on hers came back into her mind with a burning hunger. Their wedding would not take place before centuries, yet the princess decided to regard herself as his bride-to-be. After such a passionate embrace, how could she ever think of anybody else as her spouse? How could she promise her undying fidelity to any other man? No. Loki Odinson had her wedding sword, and therefore, he would have her wedding vows. It was as simple as that. She only prayed he kept her blade for himself, and did not offer it to his brother, as he had told her would. If so then… If he dared give her sacred gift to another, she would… Well, she did not know, but it would not be anything good, that was for sure. She would cry at first, then she would scream, then she would turn him into a cat or an alligator. It would depend on her mood of the day.

Her father and brothers had been so surprised when they had found out about the missing sword. They had wanted revenge, screaming at the audacity of the theft, red with fury and anger that anyone would even think of touching such a precious and meaningful weapon. However, they had soon changed their minds when Sigyn had announced the sword had actually not been stolen. No. It was now with its rightful owner, though he did not know it yet. Iwaldi and his sons had looked at her with much worry, wondering what she was talking about and if she had lost her mind. But Sigyn knew she was not insane. She knew she was right and that this was all a sign from the Norns. She believed with all of her heart Loki was meant to be her husband in the centuries to come, and so he would. No one could escape their fate, after all, not even the God of Mischief.

She was back to Vanaheim, in Sessrumnir, and she was cold. In the warm season, the place was rather nice, as the waters surrounding her mother’s hall brought some coolness to it. Sigyn enjoyed particularly the boat rides with her sisters and swimming in the lakes was always fun, as long as you paid attention not to get too close to the marshes and the water creatures. Some were nice and would swim with you, others, on the other hand, had only for goal to devour you for their breakfast. Once she had tried to domesticate a giant sea snake that had seemed lovely at first but in the end, she had nearly lost her hand in the venture. Some creatures were not to be tamed, that was the moral of the story, and Sigyn promised herself she would never try to change the nature of anyone else again from now on. Rather, she would enjoy and admire their beauty from afar, in its wild and untamed disposition. There was no point trying to change it, except if you wanted to lose a limb.

Now, it was autumn, nearly winter, and the weather had not been merciful. For months, it had rained constantly and everything was wet and muddy. Even the ruins of the ancient temples had been flooded, and Sigyn feared there would be very little left when the rivers finally went back into their beds.  The old Vanir religion had been banned and forbidden by the Aesirs after the wars, their temples destroyed and from the ancient sacred circles, you could only admire the broken shadow of a lost world. Odin had wanted to break their spirits, so he had destroyed their civilization, replacing it with his – his culture, his customs, his religion. Anything that was not purely Asgardian had been banned and crushed. Art was nowadays done in the way the AllFather intended it, whether it was sculptures, architecture, literature, or even fashion. The Vanir dresses used to be marveled at in the Nine realms for their daring yet tasteful shape and low-cut. Now, the Freyadottirs were all wearing the same clothes as if they were Aesir high born ladies, following Queen Frigga’s tastes, which of course irritated their mother. Yet, it was not as if they had the choice.  Still, to the Aesir fashion, Sigyn added a few elements from her Dwarven heritage : nothing much, she had not a rebellious nature after all, but it seemed fair that she would show off with pride her father’s bloodline. Her half-sister Idunn had laughed, seeing her wearing some dwarven piece of jewelry and furs that only Dwarven royalty would wear, and decided to do the same.

“I love it!”, Idunn had declared, caressing thoughtfully the grey fur, before winking at her younger sibling, “the ladies are going to be so jealous! You are going to start a new trend!”

She had not, as she had not stayed long enough, and had met no one of importance during her stay. She had been so young back then, visiting her Grandfather, who was still an hostage after the end of the wars. But now, her mother seemed to have an idea in mind, and Sigyn feared for the worst.

For a few weeks now, Freya had been looking at her and her sisters with attention, which she barely ever did. Sigyn could nearly see the cogs of her brain working, considering every girl for a moment, before sighting in defeat. It had all started a few days after the death of Queen Frigga, and the princess felt her anxiety rise in her chest, hoping it was all a coincidence. Surely, their mother would not even consider them a potential match for the old king, would she? She hoped she would not, even though the Queen’s behavior betrayed her true intentions.

In the end though, it seemed Freya did not play that card, to Sigyn’s greatest relief.

“You and your sisters are not half as pretty as I was at your age, what pity!”, the Queen complained one day, “I heard of that witch Amora in Asgard, and how enchanting her charms are… Even that low-born wannabe Valkyrie Sif seems to be worthier of the title “Freyadottir” than you are”

Her sisters had believed that their mother hoped to marry them to the older Odinson, Thor, but the boy was still much too young to think of marriage. So were Sigyn and her sisters, but of course, maidens of royal blood were forced into marriage to older kings since the Time of Ymir – and Freya’s plan was clear as day. The look on her Uncle Feyr’s face had been stuck into a painful wince since he had emerged from his sister’s rooms one afternoon, but he had tried to conceal it, being a politician and diplomat first, and their uncle second. He was god of Prosperity, and if to insure prosperity to the realms, his sweet nieces had to sacrifice themselves, well… It would be worth it, wouldn’t it?

“The AllFather had been unwell since the death of his lady wife, but with Algrim’s betrayal, his health seems to deteriorate. Your mother is right. A beautiful young bride would do him good”, Feyr had explained to his niece, while enjoying an apple pie in her company.

“But my sisters are so young, uncle”, she had pointed out, “Too young to marry anyone yet”

“Yes”, Alfheim’s king had conceded, “that’s what I told her too. You would make a good queen, though”, her uncle had continued with a wink, while taking a mouthful of his favorite pastry.

Sigyn shivered at the thought of Odin taking her into his arms in the same way his son had, and felt nauseous. No, she would rather die than become his wife. No title was worth enduring this.

“Well, my ambition is to become the AllFather’s daughter-in-law, not his bride”, Sigyn clarified, knowing it would be better to show her uncle her cards now, rather than letting him make plans of his own.

“Ha!”, her uncle had laughed, a knowing glee into his eyes, “I see. The handsome Thor would make quite the groom indeed”

Thor? Had she ever mentioned the blonde Prince? Well, it was true that all maidens were in love with him, weren’t they? Worshipping his every word – even the silliest one- fainting at the mere mention of his name. But Sigyn had never met him, and did not fancy him as her lord husband.

“Thor would make a very nice brother-in-law, that is all I want from him, uncle”, Sigyn smiled, correcting her uncle, while trying not to think too much of his charming sibling.

Feyr’s eyebrow arched in surprise and he seemed confused a moment, worry taking over his handsome traits. Was choosing Loki over Thor so troublesome or astonishing? But soon enough, her uncle’s usual cheerful demeanor was restored, and he took her hands into his own.

 “The second prince has your favor, then?”, the King of Alfheim said, “An interesting choice to say the least”

Sigyn giggled like a young girl in love and nodded, blushing.

“He stole my sword, you know?”, she remembered fondly. Her uncle coughed, nearly strangling himself on his pie.

“Your sword?”, he echoed, in a whisper, after drinking some water, “My sweet girl, when you say your sword, you mean…”

Her uncle took a moment to find the most appropriate words, pondering where this conversation was going, and if he truly wanted to know such things.

“Is your sword another term for…”, he started, his voice trembling a little under stress, “Did he take something else than your sword?”

“Yes!”, Sigyn said gleefully, even though her uncle’s strange behavior was starting to affect her too. Loki stealing her sword was pure mischief indeed, but if he was her future husband, the blade was meant to be his eventually anyway. So it was not such a great crime, was it?

 “Sweet Norns”, her uncle mumbled, his face now livid.

“He took a kiss!”, she confessed, blushing. She could hear her uncle letting a sigh of relief escape his lips.

“And nothing else?”, he insisted, his hands on her arms, looking at her with anguish.

Sigyn blinked a few times, confused at her uncle’s questions and insinuations.

“What else would have he taken? He took a kiss and the sword I meant to give to my future husband during our wedding vows. Therefore, he will be my groom. I know it!”

Feyr laughed, and laughed, sitting down once again, playing with his fork, and watching his niece with fondness.

“I forget sometimes how young and innocent you are, sweet girl”, he mused with emotion, “If you are decided about Loki, I am no opposed to the match. Yet, I’ll have some things to tell you about your future groom the next time we see each other… I might even invite you to Alfheim, and ask your aunt Gerda to have a chat with you, she might be of great help in the matter”

Sigyn smiled to her parent, but wondered how his Jotun bride could help her exactly, then she realized it was probably about the wedding night and her face became redder than the fire in her father’s forges. Oh. Was she ready for that conversation? She was not sure… but then, Loki’s kiss haunted her nights. Maybe it was time indeed.   

In the end, and to everyone’s relief, Freya decided she would be the one to marry Odin, as her daughters were too young, too empty-minded, and not glamourous enough. Once again, she openly regretted they did not possess Amora’s captivating allure or Sif’s fierceness.

Sigyn tried not to roll her eyes and thanked the Norns they had not given them all of those charming accomplishments, or they would be sleeping in Odin’s bed, which none of them wanted to.

In a few centuries, she would be sharing her handsome prince’s bed, and they would be very happy, and have a family together, and that was all she wanted in the nine realms. No need for a crown, that was quite the glorious burden indeed. Instead, Sigyn wanted happy days of sweet insouciance in her Prince’s arms. She could imagine him softly smiling at her, before kissing her once again, as he had done in her father’s shop. Oh, how wonderful it would be!

Arriving in Asgard, she was very surprised no one seemed to actually care about her mother’s open dislike of their late queen. On the other hand, Freya had changed completely her behavior, playing nice and gentle, the pleasant lady any man, or king, would die to have as a wife.

What a wonderful actress her mother was! She wondered for a moment if anyone else but her family and close friends could see behind her mask. The answer was obvious: the AllFather had been betrothed to her, he knew her well enough to call out her lies. However, he did not, quite the contrary. The old king welcomed his former lover with open arms, his brow trembling with emotion, and his eyes full of tears. They talked for hours of the good old days, while Sigyn and her sisters could not wait for the masquerade to end. On the other hand, being in Asgard and more precisely in the Royal palace, allowed her to be closer to her prince. Sigyn could not wait to see him again, be in his presence, talk to him, and hopefully, being kissed again by him. When he would see her, he would open his arms with a huge smile on his handsome face, and she would jump into them, never to leave his side again.

But alas, her prince was nowhere to be seen. She did not dare to ask anyone, as she would not have wanted to seem too eager or wanton. She was a princess of two realms, after all, not some lowborn slattern. Yet, she longed for him.

There was another reason to her lack on curiosity. Since her arrival, she had heard a few rumors about her handsome prince. Of course, rumors were only tattletales, and she was not sure she could truly believe them. However, something in heart knew better, and bled at the thought there was some truth in those stories.

All those accounts seemed to agree that Loki had an affair with the stunning Enchantress, Amora. The degree of their relationship depended on the babbler – some said they were in love; others pretended it was not serious, or that only Loki loved Amora, but that the beautiful sorceress preferred his brother. On the other hand, all had seen them together, laughing, practicing magic, kissing…

They said Amora was truly amazing at magic and had replaced the Queen as Loki’s teacher in the matter. How incredible, indeed. Sigyn’s pride as a seidr deity was piqued, and her mind was suddenly filled with anger and disdain, wondering how this commoner could know so much about sorcery that Odin himself would allow her to become his son’s tutor.

Jealousy and pettiness were swallowing her whole in a matter of seconds. Her magic was not bad, but not good enough to be anyone’s teacher, let alone a Prince of Asgard. She was less pretty that Amora, less accomplished, … and her Prince was obviously courting the fascinating enchantress.

Stealing her sword, stealing a kiss or two… that had actually meant nothing to him, had it?

His heart belonged to Amora, not to her. She would be his bride, in a non-so distant future, while Sigyn would only witness their union from afar, and feel her heart dying inside her chest, trying to only wish for their happiness.

Was there even a point in confronting him about the theft of her blade or of her heart? No. She would get nothing out of it, except mockery and humiliation. He did not love her, he never had. It had all been a clever illusion so he could steal her sword for Thor.

Gods. She only wanted to go home now, and never see him again.

Chapter Text

Pies, pies, glorious pies! When she was sad and her heart was in turmoil, Sigyn knew for sure baking some delicious pastries would help clear her head and fill the void inside with delightful scents of spices and cooked fruits. She had to admit, she felt a little guilty, as she had stolen a few apples from her sister Idunn’s famous orchards, but it would be worth it. The fruits would just melt in your mouth and their aroma would linger on, making you sigh with pleasure and contentment.

Idunn would be crossed, but then Sigyn would offer her a slice of her pie, and it would all be forgotten. What was a little mischief between sisters, after all?

She had to stay in Asgard, and the thought of crossing path with her handsome Prince was now torture. Would he have the beautiful Amora on his arm… in his arms? Maybe one night she would hear some laugh coming from the shadows in the palace’s hallway, and there they would be, kissing, and laughing at her tears.

Or maybe they would just ignore her, as her mother always did. She was so very forgettable, after all. Her prince moving back into Amora’s waiting embrace when he had seemed so eager to kiss her not so long ago was proof of this.

So, as much as she could, she was avoiding the AllFather’s hall. Most of the day, she spent wandering the streets of Asgard and looking at the shop’s windows, wondering if Nanna or Lofn would like this cute little item, or if Snotra would be happy if she bought her that book of songs for her birthday – it was months away, but Sigyn liked to be ready. As she continued her walk, she found a nice park, full of colorful flowers in bloom. She sat down on a bench, closing her eyes a moment, and sighing in delight at their sweet perfume, before realizing there were statues of the royal family. The first, bigger than the rest, was Odin, with Huginn on his shoulder, and Muninn at his feet. The Queen’s was on the left, surrounded by a rose bed. And then, the two Princes, standing high and tall, both very handsome. Sigyn nearly laughed when she saw some very unbashful ladies had left some of their lingerie hanging on Prince Thor’s golden hand. Sweet Norns! Such indecency!

Prince Loki’s statue did not seem to have such success, though, to Sigyn, he was the most pleasing of the two. Slowly, she approached the sculpture and gazed at his perfectly beautiful traits, his majestic posture, and the pure charisma that exulted from this mere effigy. Ah, her sword would have been quite the accessory, giving him some epic, heroic allure, worthy of the warriors of Asgard. Perhaps the ladies would treat his statue the same way as they did his brother’s… The princess winced at the idea, not sure she liked it. Anyway, he had probably already given her sword to Thor, as it did not matter to him. She did not matter to him. That part was clear, and she had to accept it.  

Still, she whimpered, looking at her Prince one last time, how wonderful it would have been to be loved by him?

She fancied another pie now… and Idunn’s orchards were not far.

Her sister was not there, as Bragi, her soon-to-be-groom must have taken her on a romantic walk. Perfect. Her future brother was already helping her! She would keep a slice for him, then.

The Princess gave the fruits an appreciative look, as they were all ripe for her little harvest. She conjured a straw basket and held her hand high to pick the one that looked the juiciest. Norns. She was too small! Sigyn tried with great effort to make herself taller, stretching her hand, putting herself on her tiptoes. However, she suddenly felt a warm presence by her side, and an elegant hand picked the apple in her stead. Startled, she nearly fell, only to be caught by the steady arms of Prince Loki.

“Well, well… Who’s the mischievous one, now?”, he asked, his voice full of laugh.

But his companions were not amused. A beautiful female warrior, with a silvery armor and dark hair, interfered, pushing past Hogun, a Vanir adventurer who had chosen Asgard as his residence.

“This is not mischief, this is theft!”, she interrupting her prince very rudely, “We must arrest her at once!”

Arrest her? Was Idunn so pissed off against her larceny that she would send her own sister to the dungeons? It did not sound like something she would do. Maybe this was all a misunderstanding. Sigyn surely hoped it was, as she was not looking forward visiting the AllFather’s jails any time soon.

“I am sure this is not as bad as you think, Lady Sif”, Hogun pleaded, “This is Lady Sigyn of Vanaheim, Queen Freya’s daughter. She is no thief, but the sister of the apples’ keeper”

So this was Sif. Sigyn stared at her in awe, remembering her mother’s words of praise about her. Oh now she understood them better. How elegant and fierce she looked. She might not have been of royal blood, but she looked much more like a princess than Sigyn could ever dream to. This was the type of daughter Freya would have hoped to have.

“Queen Freya’s daughter!”, Sif exclaimed, probably wondering how such a plain girl could be related to the goddess of beauty. But to the Vanir’s surprise, the soon-to-be Valkyrie came to her, and bowed to her with the greatest respect.

“I had no idea, your highness”, the female warrior continued, “Please, accept my apology”

Now, Sigyn felt guilty, and blushed in embarrass. She was a very bad liar. Also, the truth always came to light in the end. Sif and her friends would probably blame her even more… As for her mother, her reaction would be merciless, as she would have to share her shame.

“Actually, your first impression was right, my lady”, Sigyn confessed, her gaze stuck on her feet, shy and regretful, “I wanted to bake a pie, but had no fruits for it. So I came to my sister’s orchards, hoping to find one or two delicious apples…”

“So you are our thief”, a blonde warrior laughed, stroking his beard, while another winked at her, taking her hand before dropping a kiss on her fingers.

“Who would have known Lady Idunn was the wise sibling, and you the troublesome one… Lady Sigyn, wasn’t it?”, the second blonde warrior said, his hand still holding hers, “I am Prince Thor Odinson. You already know my brother Loki, it seems?”

Her Prince’s eyes were fixed on her hand, still in his brother’s, and Sigyn let it go, as if it had been on fire. She did not want anyone to have the wrong idea about her. Her heart belonged to Prince Loki, as did her sword, even though he desired neither. That thought made her sorrowful, but there was nothing to do about it. You could not make someone fall for you – unless you put a spell on them. That was one of Amora’s specialties. Sigyn preferred pies to love spells. Pies were good and did not trick you. Pies were not an illusion. Love spells, on the other hand, ended in heartbreak, and defeat. She did not want her handsome Prince to look at her in disgust and fear. She did not want to force him to love her. She wanted him to love her on his own accord. She did not want to change him – she loved him, just the way he was, even though it meant he would never reciprocate her feelings.

She looked at him, but then he was arguing over something she did not understand with Lady Sif, and suddenly, the princess could not help but notice how close the female warrior and her Prince were, and the chemistry between them was undeniable.

Oh Norns.

What if the rumors had been all wrong? What if the lady in her Prince’s heart was the fearless Lady Sif? Well, Sigyn pondered, trying to calm her bleeding heart, it made sense, and it was a worthy choice. The warrior was a part of Prince Thor’s entourage and one of his most trusted friends, or so Hogun had said in his tales of Asgard – though it was rather obvious their exploits were exaggerated, Sigyn did believe her fellow countryman respected the soon-to-be Valkyrie.

And how could he not? She was amazing and her mother would have wanted to adopt her on the spot, had she been there. Queen Freya had sometimes complained Sigyn’s blue eyes seemed empty, like the ones of cattle only good for the breeding. Sif’s, on the other hand, were full of fire and passion. Her long dark hair looked shiny and silky, and she was as tall as the Princes, which made her look majestic and proud. Sigyn was small – not as small as her father or brother dwarves, but she would never have the towering presence of the Aesir.

She sighed in defeat. She did not stand a chance, did she? Whether Loki preferred Amora or Sif, it did not matter. She would never be able to compete against either of them.

Biting her lips to hold back a sob, she quickly curtsied, and ran away to her aunt Olrun’s house. The former Valkyrie was not truly her mother’s sister, but she has always been seen as such, and so, the Freyadottirs always called her their “aunt”. Sigyn knew the older woman would provide her with a refuge, hidden away from prying eyes. Most of all, she did not want her Prince, or any other, to witness her tears, mostly over such ridiculous and hopeless crush.

 She thought she could stay as long as she wanted with the former Valkyrie, but soon, her mother demanded her presence in the palace, as some ball was organized in honor of the Vanir Queen.

“Do I really have to go?”, Sigyn whined a little, before realizing how childish she sounded. Her aunt laughed at her theatrics and winked at her playfully.

“I heard from that tattletale Feyr you liked one of the Princes. Aren’t you looking forward seeing him again? Maybe dancing with him? There are tales on Midgard of young maidens making wishes to dance with their charming prince… “

SIgyn gasps and blushed at her aunt’s teasing. Oh, she would have, had she not known his preferences, had she still believed they were meant to be. Then, she would have sewn herself a green dress, with golden embroideries, maybe some little snakes, since her Prince seemed to like them? She would have worn a slightly more discreet version of the headpiece her father had made for her, and some tasteful jewelry from their shop. She would never be as radiant as Sif, or as stunning as Amora, but if her Prince had loved her, then, nothing else would have mattered in the Nine realms.

“Oh but I am not them, aunt”, Sigyn confessed mournfully, “Those maidens are lucky indeed, as they are loved in return by their beloved, while mine has chosen someone else”

“And who, pray tell, would be worthier than a Freyadottir to win the heart of an Odinson?”, the former Valkyrie asked, suddenly vexed for her friend’s daughter.

“Someone who would be worthier than I to be a Freyadottir. Someone who would be prettier, lovelier, fairer, with the soul of a warrior, ready to fight any battle on the ground or in the skies?”

“Uh”, Olrun wondered a moment, before shrugging, “You mean Lady Sif? Well, it’s true your mother would like her, not so sure for your prince, though… He is a fool, if he prefers her over you, my jewel”

Still, she had to go to the cursed ball. Olrun gave one of her dresses to her niece, and sighed in delight.

“Pink suits you!”, she observed, “though you might prefer something green, maybe?”

She laughed, obviously enjoying teasing Sigyn, before looking for something in her dresser.

“I can’t wear a green dress, Aunt”, the princess lamented in distress, “It would declare to the Nine realms my unrequited feelings for Prince Loki. I would be so mortified I would die!”

Olrun snickered and waved her niece’s fears away, before handing her an elegant green velvet waistband.

“We would not want that, clearly”, she mocked gently, “but a dash of green would look nice with this pink dress, don’t you agree?”

It did. Sigyn sighed in defeat. The dress looked much better this way, even if she was terrified at the idea some courtiers might realize to whom her heart belonged and ridicule her for such hopeless crush on their younger prince.

And yet, here she was, in Odin’s hall, trying to make herself as discreet as possible. She would have turned herself into a cat, or made herself invisible, if her mother had not been there. Freya had demanded an irreproachable behavior from her daughters, as she hoped they would be a credit to her name, and convince the AllFather she was the perfect candidate for the part of the new AllMother.

Sigyn was not sure it was wise. Of course, the old king seemed rather happy to have his old flame back by his side, but something seemed wrong, and a shiver ran through her spine every time she looked at him. She did not trust him. She never had, and the little she knew about him and his political ruthlessness from her uncle Feyr did not help her bad impression either. Since her uncle had started training her as a diplomat, she had come to know a few state secrets that made her blood freeze into her veins.

Take the Jotun royal family. More than a thousand years ago, the King of Jotunheim had been Laufey. He had two sons: young boys who, at the time, were more or less the same age as the Odinsons were now, but were already great warriors and infamous for their shapeshifting talents, Helblindi and Býleistr. They were killed during a terrible battle. The King and Queen were said to be dead, but later on, Odin’s spies found them again, with a young child, a new son, the three of them hiding in the Jotnar mountains. They were assassinated, the king falling his sword in his hand, trying to defend his family, the baby slaughtered in his crib, his poor mother screaming and fighting to save him, until some Einherjar had slit her throat to silence her.

All of this had been made possible thanks to the betrayal of Thrym, Laufey’s cousin, who had his eye on the throne of Jotunheim for centuries and did not back down from murder or deceit to get what he wanted, including allying himself with the Aesir king.

No one knew of this, of course, or very few. Feyr had also told her of the price Odin had accepted to pay in exchange for Thrym’s help. What had been the price? The Dark Elves. Thrym had wanted them dead, and only Odin had stood in the way, as Svartalfheim was one of Asgard’s oldest allies. Now that he owed the new Jotun king a favor, the Aesir just let him take what he wanted and slaughter his former friends. Of course, the citizens of the Golden realm did not know, or so the AllFather had thought. But Algrim’s revenge had proven him wrong. The Dark Elves had been deceived by a king they thought their friend, but to trust a friend does not make you stupid. It only makes your supposed-to-be-friend a villain and a traitor.

That’s what Odin truly was, and Sigyn shivered at the idea of such a man as her stepfather. Well, had she not desired to be his daughter-in-law not so long ago? But it had been all for Loki. For her Prince, she would have endured anything, including the AllFather’s untrustworthy nature. For her Prince’s love, she would have moved mountains and ensured his victory and happiness. Yet, he did not want her love, so what was the point?

Now, Odin was courting her mother, or at least, he seemed very keen on her, more than he had been all those thousands years ago. This seemed too good to be true and she had a bad feeling about the whole thing. The fact that no one had said anything on her mother’s harsh words towards the late Queen seemed highly suspicious too… or was the king’s love for Freya so powerful it made him forget Frigga all of a sudden? It was doubtful, but the Vanir goddess was blind to all of it, swallowing all his honeyed words and believing every single one of them.

Sigyn did not, and she was starting to see a trap around them, closing itself on them, without any hope of escaping.

“Oh hello”, a female voice called her, “Are you hiding too?”

The princess looked up and saw the lady Sif smiling awkwardly at her. She had indeed been hiding, but alas, she had been found out. No escaping now, she feared.

“Yes, I have”, she confessed shyly, “I do not like crowds”

She was playing with her hands nervously, and heard the lady warrior sigh and sit down next to her.

“I think you are going to become the Prince’s bride”, Sif mumbled, her voice little more than a whisper. There was some bitterness in her tone too, Sigyn noted, but what she was saying seemed ridiculous and impossible.

“What are you saying?”, the Vanir said, “The Prince does not love me. He loves you!”

Sigyn pursed her lips and closed her eyes tightly, trying to control her emotions and avoid any tears in front of the proud warrior.

“He should marry you”, she concluded, attempting to keep her voice neutral, so no one would guess her true feelings.

“It does not work this way”, Sif reminded her, her gaze lost in some mournful thoughts, as dancers passed not too far from them, “I saw his reaction to your arrival, how happy he was to meet you, how he kept your hand into his when there was no need to…”

Her hand in his? Had Loki held her hand in public? She did not recall. If he had, she would have been overjoyed and her heart would have been singing songs of love for days and nights of pure bliss. She would have remembered, surely.

“I thought Thor loved me, but a word from you might make him change his mind. Also, you are a princess, I’m sure the AllFather will be more than favorable to your union…”

Sif continued ranting, obviously not meaning a single word she was saying, while Sigyn stared at her, her mouth slightly opened in complete shock. Thor? Sif loved Thor? Well, she certainly did not want to marry Thor.

“But I don’t love Thor. I love Prince Loki!”, Sigyn shouted, a bit too loudly, before clapping her hands on her lips, realizing what she had just said. Her cheeks reddened out of shame and embarrass, while Sif gasped, suddenly very happy she was already sitting down.

“I thought you loved Thor!”, she laughed, “Loki is such a snake. How can you like such an annoying boy?”

“Well, I thought you loved Loki”, Sigyn bit back a bit more harshly than she had intended, but no one, not even Lady Sif, could criticize her Prince in front of her, “And he is wonderful, so handsome and intelligent. How could I not love him? How can you not?”

Sif snickered, watching Thor dance with some pretty blonde girl whose mother was much too ambitious for her tastes.

“It’s a good thing I don’t, since you love him so much”, she observed, “At least, we won’t be rivals.”

She winked at her, and Sigyn shared her laugh, still blushing and quite embarrassed from the misunderstanding. How could she let her imagination run so wild she had not realized Sif’s obvious feelings for Thor? Or had she been so blinded by her own love for Loki she believed everyone felt the same way? This was a possibility, but it did not speak well for her common sense or intelligence. Her uncle would probably tease her for her immaturity and childishness once again.

“Even though I do not love Loki, you do have a rival”, Sif warned her new friend, giving her an apologetic look. But Sigyn knew already, even if she had not yet met the lady in question.

“Amora”, the Princess named the beautiful enchantress and the one to whom her prince’s heart truly belonged, “Yes, I am aware”

“Good luck with that”, the lady warrior wished Sigyn, “You are going to need it”

And indeed, between a lover who might never truly love her, and a king whose intentions towards her mother she could not trust, the Vanir knew she would need all the luck in the Nine realms if she hoped to survive and prevail.

Chapter Text

Loki’s mind was in turmoil. It had been before, of course, with the death of his mother, and the promise he had made to protect his brother, he had felt a lot of pressure and a sense of duty that weighed on his soul and his every decision. But since the day he had met Sigyn, his heart had never known a moment of peace. Night and day, he thought of her, dreamed of her, longed for her. When he was alone in his room, he would conjure the sword he had stolen from her and admire its beautiful craft. His lady was an artist, and he craved to hold the beautiful hands that had forged such a wonderful blade.

Another thing was troubling him: usually, he always sought out Amora’s company and advice. She had helped him develop and improve his magical skills these past centuries, and her presence by his side had always been exciting and arousing. Well, that seemed to have changed now that he longed for another blonde. Did he have a type? Not quite. Amora and Sigyn were as different as the Sun and the Moon. One was alluring and captivating, burning as bright as Sol. The other one smelled of apple pies and cinnamon, and home. The first one he inspired him improper thoughts, the second one he wanted to cuddle, and hold her in his arms, and never let her go.

One was passion incarnated, the other was… love. True love, if his heart was not mistaken. His choice was rather obvious, but he was pretty sure Amora would not appreciate it, and swore revenge on them both. He could understand, as their flirtation and companionship had lasted for so long. Yet, he knew this would lead to nothing legitimate or sincere in the future. Amora might like him, but she most of all liked power and the possibility of getting the crown of Asgard through him even better. Sigyn had not such aspiration – and was already a princess by birth. His mother would have loved her and approved his pick. Amora’s revenge would be merciless, he had to prepare himself for it.

What he had not been prepared for was Thor, holding Sigyn’s hand a little too long for his tastes, when he first met her. What in Hel did he think he was doing? This was his beloved!  Still, she removed her hand from his brother’s and blushed so prettily he could not stay cross at her for long. He was the one to blame after all, staying away from her for far too long. He had kissed her, yes, it was true, but he had not staked his claim.

The ball given in the honor of her mother was the perfect opportunity to get reacquainted and make his intentions a bit clearer. Of course, they were too young to speak of marriage, but he was actually thinking of the possibility of it, in the future, with Sigyn. She was perfect, wasn’t she? Sweet and lovely and well-bred, well-read… and with a bit of mischief into her, as he remembered her dainty hand picking apples when she should not have been. Yes. She would make him one day a very suitable bride, and the match would certainly make his father happy…

Unless it did not?

Loki was not sure anymore. He watched his father reunite with his old flame, Freya, and how he was all of a sudden enamored with the Vanir queen seemed very strange and out-of-character. His father had been very much in love with his mother, but he had always been very discreet about his feelings, never making a show of them, leaving love declarations and gifts for the privacy of the royal rooms. Here, the AllFather did not hide to shower his former flame with flowers and jewels and songs praising her beauty.

The Aesir court was divided about the whole affair : one part thought this was all heartwarming, and that the Goddess of Love and Beauty was the answer to their king’s grief and melancholy. She was bringing him so much joy, lightening his days, that it seemed indeed a new man was born.

The others were much more suspicious, and whispered in the corridors terrible rumors and accusations. Everybody knew Freya was a master of sedir, an old magic only the Vanir could use in its purest form. They also remembered how bitter and enraged she had been when Odin had chosen Frigga over her, and how she had cursed her rival and wished her the worst, insulting her every time she could.

Now, with the Queen’s death, and Odin courting her, it seemed she got everything she had ever hoped for. And that made the tattletales’ imagination go wild. They seemed quite sure Freya had poisoned the Queen so she could take her place – poisoned sweets, poisoned flowers or a poisoned handkerchief… A lot of poison in those poisonous theories.

Had the Vanir Queen truly killed the Aesir one? Well, Freya had clearly stated her wish to see Frigga dead – she did make the perfect culprit. Maybe too perfect. Freya was a lot of things, but not an idiot. Had she truly wanted her rival gone, she would have been less obvious about it, pretending to have moved on, before sending some assassin at court.

It was all very convenient, this explanation, a bit too easy for Loki’s tastes. Besides, he hoped this was not true. If it was, then, his father would never let him marry Sigyn. Her whole family would become destitute, her mother executed, and the Freyadottirs sent in exile. Sigyn could still sell her swords and find refuge in Nidavellir, he hoped… Maybe he could visit her, from time to time? Tongues would wag at him being friends with the daughter of a Queenslayer, but…

Well, there was no proof Freya had done it, was there? So, all his thoughts and plans were pointless. This certainly would not help Sigyn. On the other hand, if he found the real culprit, maybe Sigyn would smile at him and let him kiss her again? That would be nice. Their kisses still haunted his nights, and he was now craving for her more and more. Forget about Amora. Sigyn was the one he wanted. And if he cleared Freya’s name, the Vanir queen surely could not deny him her sweet daughter’s hand in marriage… He did have her sword after all. It was the first step. The second one was to save mummy dearest, and the rest would be easy-peasy.

Or so he thought.

The first question Loki asked himself was who could want the Queen’s death- except for Freya. Of course, Algrim’s name was on the top of his list. He had the means to do it, he was always in the palace, had spies all over Asgard, and hated the AllFather. Killing his beloved wife would have been the perfect revenge. However, had he done so, he would have gloated about it, or taunted Odin and Thor and him about it.

So no. Not Algrim.

Who then? Another of Odin’s enemies? The Norns knew his father had a few, Jotunheim being first in line, though Thrym seemed to respect the Allfather in his very own strange way. The two monarchs had their own tacit agreement. It was probably what had saved Thor’s life, and for that, Loki was grateful. If Thrym had not killed Odin’s son and heir when he had the chance, it seemed logical to presume he would not poison his queen.

So who else? Well, if it was not an enemy, maybe an ally, hoping Queen Frigga’s death would weaken Odin, so they could strike him at his lowest? If they had wanted to, they had clearly missed their chances.

Vanaheim? Well, Freya as a culprit was too obvious, and Loki refused to accuse Sigyn’s mother.

Alfheim? Their king was Sigyn’s uncle Feyr, known for his carefulness and diplomacy. Such a wise man would never lower himself to killing the AllMother. But then again, Loki had believed Algrim a good friend of his father’s. Appearances could be deceiving.   

Nidavellir? The AllFather was a good patron for the Dwarves. Why would they want to weaken him? That would be less gold for them, and the Norns knew the Dwarves loved his gold…

The Dark Elves? With Algrim’s death, they were now all dead…

Once again, Loki thought of Jotunheim. Thrym had not always been their king. Long before, there was another royal line, Laufey’s. What if some member of the old dynasty had survived and wanted revenge?

Loki sighed. That could actually be an interesting lead, worth investigating.

This is what led him to investigate Jotunheim’s lost dynasty. But what troubled the Prince most of all, was the lack of documentation on the subject. Most books and files seemed to have vanished into thin air, and the librarians winced and nearly shushed him when he pronounced Laufey’s name.

“That is none of your concern my Prince”, the head librarian told him rather coldly, “May I interest you in a book on Elven incantations?”

No, not today. Any other day, he would have been all over Elven incantations – it seemed fascinating – but now, this mystery was taking over his brain, and he needed to know. Something at the back of his mind was screaming at him that the key of this enigma was there, in Laufey’s bloodline.

Where could he find information about them? On Jotunheim? Maybe. But the few Jotnar History books he could conjure were of no true help. “Laufey was a bad king”, blah, blah, blah, “The King of Asgard saw this and war between the two nations started again”, blah, blah, blah, “All Laufey’s sons were killed in battle and his queen quickly followed, and then the king himself died, leaving the throne empty, until Thrym took the crown”

It only reinforce his theory that Laufey’s family would have the best motive to take their revenge on Odin, and destroy his family as it seemed his father had slaughtered theirs. It was all so strange, how his heart suddenly seemed to hurt just a little, like a pinch, when he thought of the Jotnar king, his queen and their sons. He should not though. This was the price of war. Families were crushed, people slain, bloodlines ended. Yet, it all seemed wrong.

Arh. Was he getting weak and sensitive? Was his love for the sweet Sigyn making him soft? He could not. He was an Odinson and an Asgardian, a warrior from birth, and his magic grew little by little, all this for the glory of Asgard. The Golden realm’s enemies had to be crushed. Some might see it as cruel, but he could not allow it to touch him. He had to be strong to protect his family, as he had promised his mother.

One thing though arose his interest. There was a little rune that accompanied Laufey’s name. It was rather odd and in the shape of a V. It seemed familiar to Loki, but he did not know why.

Loki sighed frustrated. Those information were interesting, but not giving him much either. It seemed that all the juicy bits had been removed, and all he wanted now was a kiss from the lovely Sigyn and a slice of one of her delicious pies…

Well, he needed a break, didn’t he? And the servants were all rushing in the halls, making the last preparation for the ball his father was giving in honor of the Vanir Queen.

People were once again going to talk. Loki retained himself from chuckling. He did love gossip, but those tattletales were hurting his sweet lady, and that, he could not allow.

 He of course arrived fashionably late. It was always nice to make an entrance, and to let once self’s be desired. Wearing his finest armor, he was rather dashing and very pleased with his own appearance. The court ladies were all over Thor, at Sif’s greatest displeasure and exasperation. Seeing the warrior lady’s discontented wince made Loki chuckle. Well, let them quarrel over his brother. As long as Sigyn granted him all her attention, a dance, and a kiss, he would be the happiest man in all of Asgard.

But then, he noticed something very upsetting, something that made him want to conjure his sword and make good use of it.

Some Crimson Hawk was already dancing with his lady, holding her a bit too close to his liking. What was this filthy peasant doing with his hands all over his beloved? Sigyn was his, didn’t they know it? Well, maybe not. Time to make things clear for everyone.

Trying to control his rising anger, Loki went straight to the dancing couple, and patted on the soldier’s shoulder, gaining an annoyed grunt from the warrior and a smile from the Vanir.

“May I cut in?”, Loki politely asked, silently remembering to go on a hawk hunt later that night.

The soldier seemed to recognize him, and bowed so low his hair touched the ground. This did make the prince smile. At least, the man knew his place. Sigyn, on the other hand, was looking at him with bright shiny eyes, and he could nearly hear his sweet lady’s heart beating only for him, the Crimson Hawk already completely forgotten.

And there they were, dancing across the AllFather’s ballroom, Loki holding Sigyn so close he could feel the warmth of her body rising against his. Good. Let her remember who owed her heart and her sword. She was blushing so prettily, her cheeks taking a nice shade of pink, all he wanted was to bend over to kiss her. Yet, Sigyn avoided him while spinning around in their dance.

“Your highness”, she pleaded, “We are not alone. What will people say?”

Loki laughed, while snaking possessively his arms around her waist.

“Let them talk. I have your sword!”, he declared proudly, “I should be your husband!”

Sigyn gasped and blushed, her eyes blinking in a slight moment of panic.

“But we are still too young to marry!”, she reminded him.

Loki smiled and keeping her dangerously close to her, “Princess, is this your only objection?”

“I was told you had an affair with Amora… And when I saw you with Sif, well… You seemed pretty close too, though she swore to me there was nothing of the sort”

Ah, of course. Loki felt suddenly a little torn between guilt and amusement, picturing his sweet lady’s jealousy over Amora and Sif. He did have a short tipsy fling once with the brunette, nothing serious… With the blonde Enchantress, on the other hand, it was different, and could become a problem, as he knew his magic tutor’s fiery temper.

He did not want to lose their friendship. He did not want to lose her magic lessons. He most of all did not want a scene. However, the one he loved and desired was not Amora, but Sigyn. He never dreamed anymore of Amora’s enchanting face, only Sigyn’s soft, melodious laugh haunted him. And now he held her so close in his arms, he knew he could never let her go, even if Amora unleashed Ragnarök on the Nine realms.

As he once again tried to steal a kiss from his sweet lady, her soft lips letting a sigh escape, waiting for him to claim them at last, noises and commotion grew around them, ruining the moment and making him release Sigyn from his loving embrace.

“Queen Freya of Vanaheim”, Tyr’s terrible voice called the name of his lover’s mother, “You are accused of Queen Frigga’s murder. How do you plead?”

Sigyn gasped and let go of his hand to run by her mother’s side. Loki felt suddenly cold and empty without her in his arms. Was he already so hooked on her that he could not stand her absence even for a few instants? It seemed so, and he was strangely fine with that. Unlike Amora, Sigyn was a very trustworthy person. He knew she would never stab him in the back, or betray him. He could sleep with both eyes closed, and his sweet lady resting upon his chest, with no fear of never waking up. He could not lose such a treasure.

Besides, Freya was innocent, wasn’t she?

So this was the plan: save the mother, get the girl… But first, find the Laufeyson or Laufeydottir who had taken their revenge and murdered his own mother. That one would pay a hard price for taking Asgard’s Queen.

Sigyn was crying and begging as her mother was being dragged away, but the AllFather remained untouched by such moving prayers. The Prince did not feel himself moving, his feet leading him to his love, kneeling by her side, his hand softly, protectively on her shoulders.

“Father”, he started, but Odin threw him a look that he knew Oh so well. This was irrevocable. The sentence had been passed, and the AllFather, who, days ago, had been so in love with the Vanir Queen, was now colder than the Jotnar blizzards.

What had happened?

Witnesses did not understand either. Some said Freya’s spell had suddenly been broken. Other supposed Freya or someone might have said something that made the king realize the Vanir queen had in fact killed his wife…

But no one knew for sure.

First of all, he helped his beloved stand and caressed her back as she sobbed in his arms. Norns, he could stand like this all night long, if her despair did not break his own heart.

He had to help her, no matter the cost.

Feyr and Idunn told him they would look after Sigyn, so Loki trust them to take care of her, while he kept on investigating. Going to his father now, with no proof, would be useless.  

He needed more information – information that would be hidden from the general public, that only the king would know about. Loki smiled. The forbidden books! Only them could tell him what he needed to know

Those books were sacred to the royal family, and concealed in a secret area of the palace, only known to the AllFather. Loki had tried several times to find it – once with Amora. But it had been just fun and games. Never before had he a real motive to go on such a quest. To find out the truth about his mother’s murder, to free an innocent queen, and earn a lovely princess’ love, he had to discover the mysterious room and steal the right book.

Turning himself into a cat, Loki decided to go somewhere he had never dared to sneak into: his father’s chambers. It would make sense that the AllFather would keep his mysterious treasures close to him. The Prince knew this was trespassing and that the king would punish him severely if he ever found out… when he would find out, that was a certainty. He winced at the thought, but tried to focus on his task. Love was making him indeed very bold.

Love for the sweet Sigyn, but also love for his mother.

She deserved justice, more than anyone. He thought of the late queen – how kind, and good, and loving she had been; how her smile had the power to warm his heart and make him always feel at ease. He missed her dearly.

His exploration of his father’s bedroom seemed dangerous, and after a while, he started feeling frustration rising inside of him. It was fun and exciting, snooping around where he should not, but the king could come back any moment, and he knew he would not enjoy his punishment.

Still, he all of a sudden felt a bit cold, as if a draft was coming from the wall… Loki turned around and looked at it more closely. Ah.

Loki’s whiskers straightened as he sniffed some powerful magic coming right from behind the gold-covered stones. The secret room was there, he was now sure of it. Forcing an entry with a spell or opening a portal would have alerted his father. So, the young sorcerer turned himself into a very little mouse – the worst enemy of any wall, and he started  digging.

He arrived on the other side and was amazed by all the books and the precious artefacts that were stored there. Everyone knew about the vault, where the king kept other treasures, but here were the very special ones no one could know about, except for him.

Well, for them now.

There was this very special golden ring that seemed to call to him, but a very dark aura surrounded it. A curse.

Ah, better not take it then. Whoever would, would be quite a fool, and Loki was not.

Besides, he was there for a book, not for jewelry. Turning himself back into his usual form, the Prince admired for a moment the volumes’ spines, some in leather, others in precious metal, all of them richly decorated with precious gems. The runes engraved in gold on them were interesting to say the least, and finally, Loki found the tome with the V shaped symbol.

Those books held truth no one could find anywhere else. The AllFather and his father Bor and so on, had written them themselves, keeping the most secret information and secrets, that no one else but the kings of Asgard could know. Instead of burning them, they kept them in this secret room, so their successors would learn from their decisions – right or wrong, and be better monarchs for it.

When the sorcerer took the volume that interested him in his hands, he felt a shiver running through his veins. Was it excitement or something else? He did not know. Yet, something at the back of his mind was shouting with joy and his fingers were burning with trepidation.

The book was, as he excepted, a History of Laufey’s line, from his ancestors, magicians and shapeshifters, to advisers of kings, before they took the crown of Jotunheim for themselves, and reigned on the Frozen realm for nearly two millennia… Well. Before the war and Thrym, of course.

But the words written on the paper were very different from the version Loki had been told. So much different. Laufey had been betrayed, slaughtered, dying after the Aesir king killed his whole family: his two adult sons, his wife… yet, a third son remained.

Ah. Had he found his culprit?

The baby had been taken from his dying mother’s arms, her screams and pleas useless, as her husband’s enemies were merciless. He was then sent to Asgard and …

Loki stopped his reading.

No.

NO.

It was impossible.

Yet, this book did not lie.

All the other volumes he had read had been written for the public to see – a version of the story that was very nice to both the AllFather and Thrym. Here, Loki was faced with the terrible truth.

He was Laufey’s son. He was the baby stolen away from his crying mother.

But there was more.

Loki’s mind felt broken, yet, he could not stop reading, as the following lines seemed to have been freshly written.

Queen Frigga had taken the young boy as her second son, and loved him as such. This might be the reason why she decided she would tell Prince Loki the truth about his birth and how he came to live with the Asgardian royal family. The King could not accept such betrayal, though he loved his wife.

The book fell from Loki’s hands, as the shock was too great. Odin. Odin had been the one to kill the queen, before framing his former lover with his own crime.

He had killed his family by blood, before killing the woman who had become his mother and had been the most important to him. Odin had stolen everything to him.

Fine.

He would do the same.

Congratulations, Algrim, Loki thought bitterly, you shall have your revenge after all…

Taking a female form and disguising himself into a kitchen maid, Loki prepared the AllFather’s favourite sweets. The old man had grown very fond of them and could no longer spend his afternoon working on state affairs, without some pastries to nibble on.

The king never looked at his servants, so he did not notice the Prince was holding the tray, putting his food on his desk. He did not even pay attention to the magic emanating from him, as Loki was still under his disguise.

Odin just thoughtlessly took a bite from the cake, and swallowed it, before realizing what was happening. His eyes grew with shock and that’s when he saw him, truly.

His hands went to his throat, he tried to speak, but could not. The poison was too quick, and before he knew it, the once all powerful king was on his knees.

“This is for mother”, Loki said calmly, “and for Laufey, and Farbauti, and Helblindi, and Byleistr”

Odin’s breath was short now, and he was blinking, rage chocking him.

“Oh and before you ask”, his adoptive son clarified, “I have already found the perfect culprit: your old buddy, Thrym, who helped you kill my real family, and stole my throne.”

Some white foam emerged from his purple lips, a fog blinded his eyes, and then, it was over.

Loki felt suddenly sad and frustrated. He wanted to bring Odin back from the dead, tell him all the things he burned to tell him.

He wanted to tell him how he had loved him, trusted him, believed in him. He wanted to scream at him how much his lies had hurt him. He wanted to interrogate him about his mother – no – about Queen Frigga’s death. Why did he have to kill her? Did this secret matter so much he would kill his beloved wife for it?

Apparently so.

But all of this would have taken much more time than he had. Loki had to move quickly, so Tyr and Heimdall would not know he had been there. He needed to place all the clues incriminating Thrym, setting his trap in place. He also kept the book on Laufey’s line preciously and hid it. Thor would become king, but he did not need to know everything…

The Asgardians were so gullible, always ready to blame the Jotuns, anyway, whatever the crime. When the God of War came to the conclusion that the Jotnar king had killed both the Queen and the King of Asgard, no one seemed surprised.

And so started a new war between Jotunheim and Asgard, that lasted for a new millennia. Many would die, realms would be lost, … but in the end, Loki knew Thrym did not stand a chance against the might of Asgard and their allies.

Vanaheim and its queen were still upset about the murder accusation, but a promise of marriage between Prince Loki, and the Vanir princess, Sigyn, seemed to appease their anger.

Loki smiled. He had everything he wanted, and soon, he would even get the throne that had been stolen from him.

A crown, a royal bride, and his revenge… What more could he want?