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2021-05-23
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The One That Got Away

Chapter 2: Making Amends

Summary:

Peace talks, drunken shenanigans, Sigyn being a hopeless bisexual, Loki going to therapy way before M*rvel made it cool, and Sigyn meeting some interesting people.

Notes:

Here's chapter two. Though it has been written for actual years, I actually had a hard time with it because I absolutely had to change a few things about it beyond the grammar and spelling before I could post. But it's here now!

Chapter Text

Loki woke up with a headache and a knot in his stomach. The previous night had entailed more than a fair share of self-pity, anger, and alcohol, which eventually left him passed out over the covers. Yet his anxiety had him awake before the break of dawn, and he blearily dragged himself to Eira's house.

He arrived just as the first rays of sun spilled over the city walls, with the express purpose, it seemed, to stab into Loki's skull with sharp pain. He didn't hesitate to disrupt the healer's sleep to demand a remedy, only remembering to apologize for the hour after he'd gotten his cure. Eira, as always, took her patient's attitude with good grace. If there was anyone in Asgard who never ran out of patience, it would be her.

By the time the sun was fully in the sky, Loki was back at his house nursing his headache with the help of Eira's draught, and pondering the events he'd drunk so hard to forget. While the previous night he had been filled with rage and dejection, the new dawn also brought back in him the feeling of curiosity. The bitterness was far from gone, but questions about the woman that was to be his wife involuntarily leapt in his mind. He also found that most of his anger was directed at his brother and not Sigyn herself. Thinking back to their brief meeting, she really didn't strike him as the kind to play Odin's kind of game. In fact, she'd seemed rather out of her depth. But Loki had learned early on not to underestimate anyone, so he kept just enough suspicion close to his chest.

Pressed by obligation,  and somewhat spurred by that curiosity, Loki set out to restore a semblance of order to the mess he'd made of his life. He arrived at his brother's Hall late in the morning and he did his best to ignore the pointed looks and low whispers that followed him from the courtyard to the stone corridors. The moment he entered the feasting hall, where a lot of the Aesir were gathered taking breakfast, a telling silence fell. He paid no heed to it, determined to act as if the rumours that would have undoubtedly made the round of Asgard did not have an ounce of truth in them.


Sigyn was seated at Odin's table, engaged in conversation with Frigga, and while Loki's entrance hadn't gone unnoticed she didn't acknowledge it. Still, she could not help but feel her stomach clench when Loki started making his way towards their table. Sigyn didn't want to meet his eyes, but she observed him from the corner of hers; he looked nothing like he had the previous night. The very way he walked and held himself seemed lighter, gone was the barely concealed fury she’d glimpsed in him when he stormed out the previous night. He approached the table and chirped out pleasant greetings to both Odin and his wife, before turning his attention to her.

"Lady Sigyn, I owe you an apology," he said soberly, inclining his head in a polite bow.

 "I hope you will allow me to make up for my less than exemplary behaviour last night."

Loki offered the invitation with a gentle smile and an extended hand, and Sigyn found herself equally inclined to smile back and gripped with suspicion. She was not one to trust a sudden change of heart, and she cast her eyes around the room to find any excuse to turn him down. She shuddered to realize that almost every pair of eyes was glued on them, with varying degrees of discretion.

While the thought of leaving the safety of the familiar company was unpleasant, and that of being left alone with Loki downright unsettling, nothing was worse than the barely disguised scrutiny of the people  around her in that moment. The sense of being some sort of spectacle to them. She put her hand in his and let herself be guided out of the feasting hall. 

They left through a small side entrance that opened up to one of the gardens. It was meticulously trimmed and a faint touch of magic tingled in the air. Frigga's magic, Sigyn soon realized, easily placing the strong, familiar signature.

The moment the door closed behind them all the noise ceased and Sigyn felt a sense of serenity, a product, no doubt, of the lingering magic, flood her chest. It did not last long however. Despite her impeccable practice in manners and diplomacy, she found herself unable to form the right words, or in fact any words at all. As anxiety rose in waves in her, Loki spoke up.

"Walk with me," he suggested.

She nodded and they fell in step with each other in a leisurely pace that allowed her to look around, taking in the carefully arranged plants and flowers.

"How was your journey here?" Loki asked pleasantly. If he was affected at all by the heavy atmosphere between them, he didn't let it show.

"Good, considering the conditions," she replied, her voice sounding terse and unenthusiastic even to her own ears.

"You don't like small talk much, do you?" asked Loki after a beat of thoughtful silence, with a hint of laughter in his voice that didn't show in his seemingly serene expression. 

Sigyn felt the heat rushing to her face, as her embarrassment wrangled with her annoyance at the patronizing tone.

"Sometimes I do," she finally managed, and she knew she sounded petulant but she couldn't stop herself.

Loki didn't seem offended. In fact, he seemed wryly amused.

"You might as well be honest with me," he said, throwing his arms up in a theatrical shrug. "What's there to lose but our chains, right?"

It struck her just how true that was. With everything already decided for them, trying to impress was rather pointless.

"Alright, I find it a waste of time," she blurted out, momentarily surprised by her own bluntness.

Loki hummed thoughtfully. "But it's fundamental courtesy to somehow fill the silence, and most are averse to starting a personal conversation with someone they barely know."

Most are averse to marrying someone they barely know, Sigyn thought bitterly. "A conversation does not have to be personal to be interesting," she said instead.

He tilted his head, silently urging her to go on.

"Strangers can find common ground as well as friends do, as long as the subject is appropriate. It merely needs to be a conversation at all and not a mindless chat that neither person is truly interested in having," she concluded, hoping she didn't sound as pretentious as she felt the moment the words left her mouth.

"What would an appropriate subject be then?" Loki asked, and by now Sigyn was starting to get used to the amused lilt in his voice that she tried to convince herself didn't have to indicate mockery.

But maybe he would be right to mock her, Sigyn realized, because here was the catch. She could pile judgement on the conversational skills of others mercilessly, but she was neither ready nor willing to offer anything better. In fact, she didn't even want to be here right now. Maybe Loki could effortlessly turn his behaviour around and pretend to be completely unbothered by everything happening between them, to them, but she couldn't, so she offered no reply. She opted for brooding, and she kept frowning silently at the ground even after she realized how her mother would break out into hives if she saw her acting like this. Or perhaps because of it, as it fed into the little corner of her mind that always wished to rebel in whichever little ways she could.

"You might want to at least pretend not to be so discontent to be around me," Loki scoffed all of a sudden.

Sigyn was surprised by how upset he sounded, almost like she actually got to him. Almost like he actually cared . She lifted her head to meet his unsympathetic gaze.

"Why? Would you fall for it? Feel better?" she asked, trying to mimic his dry tone.

Loki didn't say anything for a moment. His eyes grew distant in what could be recollection, and his next words had no trace of his previous scorn.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to, you know. And you don't have to decide anything now. It's mid-autumn. If by the beginning of spring you still loathe the idea, I promise you we will not have to get married."

Sigyn hadn't expected this, neither his words nor the gentle way in which they were spoken. Instinctively she searched for any hint of mockery or deception, but his expression seemed serious.

"Alright," she muttered, "but why are you making me such a promise?"

After all, it was a promise to each other that they were both bound by, even when neither of them actually made it. Would making one now help things, or bury them even deeper?

He raised an eyebrow, as if her question was the most redundant thing in the world.

"Because it only makes sense to do so," he declared, clarifying absolutely nothing.

"You might as well be honest with me," Sigyn said, echoing his earlier words.

"Hmm. You know, I have no idea," he admitted, flashing her a crooked little smile and shrugging. "Maybe I am actually looking for an excuse to cause a diplomatic incident, to liven things up around here a bit. The Aesir and the Vanir haven't had a war in quite a few centuries."

A laugh bubbled up from Sigyn's chest, one that had been pushed to the surface by her churning agitation, and finally released at his absurd words. Loki grinned at her, looking exceedingly pleased with himself; as if getting a laugh out of her was an achievement.

"I see, so I am to be your accomplice instead of your wife," Sigyn replied. Earlier this very morning, she wouldn't have imagined that she could ever say those words so lightly.

"There will be whole ballads about you." Loki confirmed,m with a mock sage nod. "The woman over who's hand the Gods went to war. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Up until the point where you end up gruesomely executed, of course."

"Of course. And what about you?" Sigyn shot back, noticing his suspicious absent from this imagined epic.

The laugh that left Loki's lips at that had an almost musical quality, a pleasant sound for all it's harsh edges.

"They can't gruesomely execute me," he replied, " because then who would solve all their ridiculous messes?"

"Maybe," Sigyn said, tapping her lip playfully with her index finger, "but you still run the risk of ending up as a problem-solving magically preserved head Odin carries around."

She watched Loki's smile momentarily drop as he considered her suggestion. For a moment she even worried she took the jest too far; never one to know where those boundaries really lied. But then Loki looked back up to her, eyes full of mirth and lips twisted upwards, and she felt an unexpected rush of relief flood her chest.

"So we better plan this out thoroughly," said Loki, leaning in closer and lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Bet I could find a way to pin it on Baldur."

Sigyn found herself laughing easily, even as she very pointedly rolled her eyes at him. It was strange, how the animosity between them melted away almost as abruptly as it had flared up the previous day. The complicated particulars of their acquaintance did not matter for a while; they were just two people, making the start of getting to know one another. Within the secluded little garden, the unwilling betrothed took the reluctant first step towards perhaps becoming willing friends.


Sigyn could hear the festive commotion of inside the hall from the entrance steps. She had yet to completely wrap her head around the idea of Freyja throwing an entire feast in her honor. Of course, the possibility that it was really just another excuse for everyone to drink themselves stupid –as Loki had so eloquently put it at some point- was now ringing quite true. She hurried up the stairs, eager to get inside the warm space. Raucous chatter and music, a wave of heat, and the mixed scent of food, firewood and people assaulted her senses the moment she swung the door open. It was slightly overwhelming, but inviting all the same.

No one seemed to notice her entrance. She started walking towards the mass of gathered people, uncertain of where exactly to go. Slowly, the crowd parted to reveal the hostess of the celebration. Freyja looked stunning; in an assortment of red silk and golden jewelry that not many people, even goddesses, could ever hope to pull off, she easily drew every pair of eyes in the room on her. She was aware of every bit of admiration, desire, and envy she caused, and she thoroughly enjoyed it. Unlike Sigyn, who felt overly conscious of the attention when Freyja walked over to her and greeted her enthusiastically, before turning to the expectant crowd, arms still linked with the younger goddess.

"I would like to officially extend my hospitality to my kinswoman, Sigyn Odinsdottir of Vanaheim. I am sure you will all make her feel welcome in Asgard," said Freyja.

A hearty cheer erupted from the crowd, and Sigyn stayed rigid on Freyja's side, smiling awkwardly, unsure whether she should say or do something. However the droves of people soon returned to their drinking and merriment. Freyja urged the younger Vanir to come along and Sigyn obliged. In Asgardian tradition -one that Sigyn never quite understood- men and women were still, for the most part, gathered in separate tables, a pointless arrangement that would cease to exist as the night wore on.

Freyja approached a group of goddesses that were laughing about something. She introduced Sigyn to those of them she did not already know, and easily joined the conversation. It concerned people Sigyn did not know much about, so she sat there listening, gratefully accepting a drink from a passing servant. It was pleasant to simply be part of a group, drink, and hear stories about Asgard's latest humorous exploits and misadventures. At times Sigyn would notice odd looks from someone at the table, but she was quick to dismiss it. Being quiet at feasts would always earn her a curious look or two, especially since the Vanir had such a reputation as outgoing.

"So, how are you doing?"

It took Sigyn a few moments to realize that Sif was directing the question to her. She'd spent the day with her brother's wife a mere few days ago, so Sigyn assumed that Sif was simply trying to include her in the conversation.

Sigyn smiled. "It's been really lovely so far, it's good to see Asgard again after so long."

"That is great to hear, what with all you are being put through," the woman who'd introduced herself as Nanna, the wife of her other half-brother, cut in.

Freyja glared at the goddess, but many in the group nodded and gave Sigyn the same odd look. Only then she recognized it for what it was. Pity. Sigyn felt anger bubble in her chest. She clenched her fists under the table, but she did not let it show on her face.

"Put through?" she asked innocently. "I have been enjoying the attention of many new interesting people, and reuniting with family I have not seen in years. Lady Freyja has done me the honour of holding a magnificent feast to celebrate my arrival. My stay has been nothing short of pleasurable and welcomed," she finished, unable to keep the heat from seeping in her voice.

No one spoke, although a few lowered their eyes in shame. Hesitantly, they picked up another conversation. Sigyn suddenly felt fed up with the pleasantries and the empty talk. She looked at her drained cup sullenly and scanned the room for another mead-bearer.

"They didn't mean any harm." The woman seated next to Sigyn spoke up for the first time since she introduced herself to her, a foreign accent colouring her words. Unlike the rest of the group her looks were too harsh to be considered the Asgardian standard for pretty. She had dark hair and intense red eyes, and she stood taller than most other women. In Sigyn's opinion, the Jotun that had introduced herself as Gerd looked utterly captivating .

Sigyn sighed. "I know. But to be honest, spending time with Loki is a pleasant break, because he is the only one who is not going on about Loki. Or at least, when he does it is more amusing."

Gerd laughed. "Even now a lot of folk see me as 'Frey's Jotun bride' and nothing more. You do not draw attention to yourself, so it will take time, and even then not everyone will be able to see you. But there will be people who will see you for yourself and realize you are not to be pitied. And those are the people that matter."

Sigyn smiled brightly at the woman, who's wise words put her heart at ease. "Let's drink to that then," she said as a servant finally refilled her cup.

The two women continued chatting. Gerd filled Sigyn in about what events and people the others had been discussing, and Sigyn occasionally commented. Slowly the groups became more mixed, and the crowd only grew more rowdy as wine and mead flowed generously. At the far end of the room, a commotion resembling a fight was starting to take place. A group of spectators was gathered, although what they were observing was hidden from view where the women sat.

"What's going on?" Sigyn asked.

Gerd shrugged, clearly unimpressed by the occurrence. A lot of the others also seemed uninterested, although some women sauntered over to the crowd of rowdy men. Sigyn's curiosity got the best of her. She got up and approached the scene. Before she could even see what was going on she heard a familiar voice from within the circle of spectators.

"I would like to see you come out of that without at least five arrows sticking out of your arse," said Loki.

"That idiot was probably so slow he couldn't hit a sleeping cow," a rather intoxicated sounding Frey retorted.

"Ah, so he'd still hit you?"

A bout of laughter erupted from the gathered audience.

"You're fuh-full of it, Loki. Bet you anything even I could shoot you down if I tried," the un-warrior like Frey boasted, a sign in itself that he was too far gone, in case anyone failed to notice the slur in his voice.

'"A much better shot than you could not, in fact not even one of the best in Asgard!" declared Loki. "Want me to prove it?"

As he said that more ruckus broke out, and the crowd widened just enough for Sigyn to finally worm herself to the front. Loki was leaning against a table, arms crossed, and a few feet from him stood a very discombobulated looking Frey, trying to mirror his stance.

"Tyr, are you sober enough to shoot a crossbow?" Loki asked, striding towards the Aesir's table with renewed purpose, but less stability than Sigyn would have liked for someone making such claims.

The solitary warrior that had spent the entire night up to now drinking in silence looked up at Loki, confusion plain on his weathered face. "You are asking me to shoot at you?"

"A lifetime opportunity," Loki confirmed, giving an unimpressed Tyr a wink that rather befit a very different kind of suggestion.

Tyr's brow creased as he seemed to be weighing his options, and eventually he got up from his table. He walked into the circle and someone handed him a simple crossbow, which shouldn't really be that readily available at a feast, Sigyn found herself thinking. She stared, mouth slightly agape, as the two men positioned themselves, going as far from each other as the space allowed. Loki actually turned his back at the Aesir, and Tyr dropped his arms at his sides, crossbow clenched in his left hand.

"Ready when you are," Loki chimed pleasantly. His voice may have been loose, but his stance was now taut. As if it was matter of who would snap first, him or the crossbow.

Tyr nodded, and the crowd began a countdown that sent Sigyn's beating heart to her throat. Still, she could not tear her eyes from the scene.

"…Seven… Six… Five… Four… Three… Two… One…"

It all happened in a blur of motion, too fast for most eyes to fully follow. One moment they were both still, waiting for the countdown to end. The next Loki was facing Tyr, the short bolt secure in his right hand mere inches from his chest. Tyr still had the crossbow raised, almost level with his narrowed eyes. The crowd went deadly silent for a moment. Sigyn forced herself to breathe slowly; in and out, in and out. She shuddered upon noticing the little tear on Loki's tunic where the bolt was barely caught before it could break the skin underneath. It would had hit Loki's heart, had he not turned around in time.

Loki seemed as stunned as everyone else for a moment. He blinked a few times and looked down at his hand, his face slowly breaking into an exhilarated grin. It was so bright and infectious and lovely, that for a moment Sigyn felt compelled to smile along with him, as if it had all been nothing more than a little joke. The crowd broke out of its trance on cue, and they started cheering and shouting drunkenly. Loki made a mock little bow, and flicked the bolt at Frey, who seemed as relieved as everyone in the crowd, if not more on virtue of being the accidental instigator, for the outcome. The previously charged scene was suddenly reduced to nothing more than a little performance. Tyr did not seem too disheartened at losing either, even if he wasn't as obviously relieved as Frey. He shrugged and put the crossbow aside, presumably glad he didn't kill someone. He resumed drinking in his corner, clearly happy to escape the attention of the drunken crowd. Sigyn could understand him.

Soon the cluster of spectators dissolved, with only a few still lingering around Loki. For his part, he seemed rather unconcerned for someone who had just narrowly escaped death. Those few also dispersed soon enough. Sigyn did not realise her eyes had been on Loki while her mind was grasping for any shred of logic in what had just taken place. Not until it was brought to her attention.

"Staring is not very polite, you know."

Loki's voice startled her and she snapped her head up to find him much closer than expected, regarding her with an unreadable expression.

"Y-You almost got yourself killed," she stammered.

"Almost. Tough luck, eh?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sigyn demanded. Her concern was starting to turn into something else, something ugly that burned inside her ribcage and relentlessly tried to claw its way out.

Loki blinked at her as if she was missing the most obvious thing in the world. "It means that Tyr could have involuntarily solved your problem, do try to keep up. Or did we drain a tankard too many?"

He let out a chuckle, low and patronizing, and Sigyn felt something inside her that was growing taut with every word snap.

"You think I am the one not keeping up?" Sigyn's anger was free now, and it clung fiercely to every word that left her mouth. "You think I would see it like that? The ale must have gotten to your head if your conclusion is that I ever blamed you for any of this."

Loki didn't falter, for all the heated words thrown at his face. "But it doesn't really matter whose fault it is," he insisted, with no trace of apology in his voice. "Sure, I did not cause your problem, but I am your problem, and anyone would naturally wish it would be solved nice and easy like that."

He didn't even sound bitter. He presented his convoluted deduction so earnestly and calmly that it knocked the wind out of Sigyn. Her anger suddenly felt so aimless, trying to hold on to it was like trying to grab fistfuls of air. She didn't say anything for a moment, at a loss for words as she was, until suddenly he turned his back on her and walked away. She stared after his back until he was gone from view, and she couldn't help but feel a bitter taste in her mouth at the sight. Suddenly returning to the group of goddesses felt quite unappealing, as did sitting and drinking alone like Tyr and some others did. In fact, she decided she was no longer in the mood for revelry, and she resolutely made her way towards the front entrance.

Once outside, she realized that almost everyone in Asgard was gathered in Freyja's hall, making the streets, houses, and other halls practically deserted. Not a soul was in sight. The emptiness was strangely comforting, but not enough to settle the violent staccato of her heart. She couldn't fathom staying still, but thankfully tonight the whole city was her backyard; peaceful and still and welcoming. With a new plan in mind, she made her way back to Odin's hall.


"I thought you were getting along." Hod's voice was treading the fine line between exasperation and hysteria. He had already broken out in hysterics when Loki mentioned his little shooting game.

"We were. Or maybe not. It was different that time in the gardens. I don't know why I said those things tonight. It just sort of happened? It is not my fault! I cannot help-"

"Norns, stop having a breakdown!" Hod interrupted Loki's rant. "Every time you so much as talk to her you panic, offend her, run away, and then come here to panic some more."

"It's not the easiest situation to have something like that forced on me!" Loki protested.

"You have kept a better composure around people out to kill you, now you can't handle the one that's supposed to marry you?" Hod demanded.

Loki nodded wordlessly. Of course he was sending subtle visual signals to a blind man, but he was too out of sorts to realize.

Regardless, Hod could bet the Jotun currently looked every bit as pathetic as he sounded. In fact, he almost felt bad for him. But mostly he just regretted signing up for this in the first place. Did I even sign up for it, he wondered idly.

"Well that last time I was somewhat scared for myself, among other things, so I went to make up for my blunder with an apology. And then we just happened to talk for a bit, it's not like I had anything better to do," said Loki.

"You know, this has no point if you aren't honest. I get it, it's not your thing, but if you want help stop trying to deceive both me and yourself." Hod was losing patience, but he'd had more than a lifetime to learn to hold on to the last dregs of it.

"Alright, she looked so miserable, and I felt bad, and I remembered what you said about her being scared, and I made a promise I cannot keep without causing a diplomatic catastrophe, I think? But as a consequence we got to talk and it was actually nice for a while."

"I will be absolutely honest about this," Hod warned. "It seems that the reason she makes you so nervous is because you actually like her."

Loki jumped out of his seat so abruptly he managed to knock over two of the surrounding chairs and hit the edge of the table at such a bad angle he doubled over in pain. He grunted a few colourful curses and staggered back, while Hod remained completely still and unimpressed.

"I don't mean in the romantic way you'd like the one you want to marry," Hod eventually clarified. "Normally you would not care about any collateral damage, but she happens to be one of the few people you would easily befriend, had you two met under different circumstances. You want to hate her, but you can't. And you feel inclined to like her, but you don't want to."

By the time the Aesir finished, Loki was done with straightening up chairs and rubbing the bruise no doubt forming on his hip. He was just as done with talking. He did not say anything to refute Hod's words. Actually he did not say anything at all. He merely stomped over to the door, and proceeded to walk out, slamming it hard enough behind him to make one of its already abused hinges fall off.

"See if I ever listen to you whining again," Hod muttered to the empty air without any real conviction.


Sigyn emerged back out of Odin's palace dressed in clothes much more fit for exploring: wool pants and tunic, and a pair of comfortable worn boots. At a distance she looked no different than a servant, which served her just right. She ran out on the street, feeling a childish sort of excitement starting to overtake her, replacing the dark things swirling around in her head. There were a lot of things she did not remember or know altogether about Asgard, and many things that had simply changed. Roaming those streets without any particular goal or purpose gave her a much needed rush of freedom. She remembered how as a kid she was never allowed to go too far out in the city, so she made for the outskirts. The further she went the landscape became less residential, gardens and groves taking over most of the space.

Sigyn kept walking, looking around and enjoying the quiet and the night air, until she stumbled upon a specific grove that caught her attention. It was larger and most sturdily fenced than any property she had come across. A strong magic aura tugged at her even from all the way out on the street. She paused, curiosity piqued, and considered whether it would be trespassing to just walk in. There was no one guarding it, and upon further inspection the metal gate was unlocked and easily slid open. Sigyn figured there was no obvious reason she shouldn't go in.

The moment she stepped into the grove the presence of magic in everything around her became crystal clear, whereas before it had been muted and blurry, like silhouettes behind a fogged-up window. It was powerful and vital, so much so that even someone with less sensing gift than Sigyn would be able to feel it. And yet it was gentle, malleable and unobtrusive. Sigyn cast her eyes around, her sight now adjusted to the pale moonlight. The trees surrounding her formed a strange variety, from apple and orange trees to large oaks and chestnuts, an unusual medley that paid no mind to climate. It had a calming effect, even more so than Frigga's gardens. Sigyn found herself wondering who this magic belonged to.

She noticed the sound of running water and followed it. From within the trees, a little clearing came into view. A stone-hewn fountain was in the center of it, and next to it a single apple tree; it looked just like every other one in the grove, only its fruit were an impossible shimmering gold Sigyn instantly recognized. She now had a name for the grove's owner, despite not having a face to go with it.

Under the tree's branches, on the fountain's unadorned ledge sat a young woman. She looked lonely but at peace, and Sigyn felt guilty for her presence all of a sudden. Her knee-jerk reaction was to start backing away. But then again, the woman hardly looked threatening, and Sigyn could always leave if she was asked to. It was much more polite than sneaking away, since she had already entered. After all, a small part of her brain supplied, she did want to meet whoever this place belongs to.

 

She stepped out of the trees into the clearing, and the woman turned her head towards her, mouth parting in soft surprise.

"Hello there," Sigyn greeted. "I didn't want to startle you, or to trespass. I thought it was alright to come in here. I can go if it's-"

"Oh, it's alright," the other woman was quick to reassure, smiling sweetly.

Her dark skin shone in the moonlight, her complexion warm and lively even in the pale glow. She had golden brown hair and big brown eyes that brimmed with warmth. Her smile was bright and contagious, and Sigyn found herself drawn to her immediately.

"I'm Sigyn. I'm sort of new around here," she said, shifting her weight from one leg to the other where she stood.

"My name is Idunn," the woman said, confirming Sigyn's suspicion upon seeing the golden aoples. "I'm happy to meet you. Oh, do you want to sit down?"

Sigyn obliged and went to sit cross-legged at the base of the golden apple tree. She rested her back against the trunk and looked up at Idunn. "How come you are not at the feast?" she asked.

"I can leave this place, but it's really better if I don't. I don't mind though," Idunn replied.

Sigyn considered that for a moment, and she took in the bittersweet expression on Idunn's face. "Doesn't it get lonely?"

"Perhaps, sometimes," Idunn admitted. "But not always. You are here now."

"I came here pretty much by accident," said Sigyn, and at Idunn's crestfallen look she added: "Of course from now on I can visit, if you'd like that."

"I'd love that," Idunn replied earnestly. "Other people visit me too, and I also go into the city sometimes. But everyone's got their thing to do. So I can't expect them to come here all the time."

As if on cue, another figure emerged from the cluster of trees. A man, looking no older or younger than the two goddesses, his pale hair tumbling down freely, unlike a warrior's that was either short or braided. He carried a harp and had what looked like a guitar strapped to his back. A set of pipes hung at his belt. Idunn's face lit up the she saw him and he returned her beaming smile with one of his own.

"I finally managed to escape," he said, as he emerged onto the clearing. It was only then that he seemed to notice Sigyn.

" Hello there, I'm Bragi," he said, not dropping his warm smile.

"I'm Sigyn, honoured to meet you," she said, observing him and trying to place the sense of familiarity about him.

"The honour is all mine," Said Bragi with a small curtsy.

His getup and the familiar sound of his name both tugged at Sigyn's older and more recent memory, until she was sure she'd seen this man sing and play before.

 "Are you a musician?" she asked.

Bragi nodded.

"He plays and sings so beautifully," Idunn exclaimed.

"Apparently you're not the only one who thinks so. Freyja wouldn't let me leave the feast earlier," he said apologetically.

Sigyn barely contained herself from pumping her fist in the air as she realized that she'd just caught sight of him playing before she left Freyja's palace, but hadn't paid attention, lost as she was in her own stormy thoughts.

"You didn't have to," Idunn said, lowering her eyes. It was barely perceptible, but her cheeks darkened in a soft blush.

"I wanted to." He smiled at her again. His whole face lit up every time he did.

Sigyn's eyes darted between the two, and suddenly she felt like she was intruding on something private.

"You two will be my little private audience for tonight," Bragi announced cheerfully as he sat down on the ground, his back against the fountain's wall.

He unstrapped the guitar from his back and set the harp aside. He tested and tightened a few strings, and then he looked up at both women in turn. "Any requests?"

Sigyn shook her head, and Idunn said: "whatever you'd like."

He started picking a simple pattern on the guitar that got more intricate as it went on. From the first note Sigyn felt peculiarly drawn to the sound. It was a plain instrument, but in the God's hands the melody had a magical effect, which only got stronger when he started singing. His voice was enrapturing; not too deep and not too high, but utterly beautiful. The song he chose was a ballad about two lovers' tragic fate to never be together. And throughout it, Sigyn felt so much emotion it brought her close to tears. After the song ended she was left stunned, as if a spell had been suddenly broken. She looked at Idunn who had actually teared up.

'"Perhaps that was a bit too sad," Bragi muttered. "Let me play something else to pick up the mood."

And so, he continued playing; happy tunes that filled one's soul with laughter, bittersweet ballads about love, and peaceful songs that made nature itself want to slow down and take a rest. After a particularly calming harp piece, Sigyn found herself nearly dozing off against the tree's trunk. She yawned behind her hand and stretched as discreetly as she could before pushing herself up. She didn't know how much time had passed, but she was starting to feel weary, and she was inclined to leave the two have some time by themselves anyway.

"This was absolutely lovely. I hope I get to hear you play again," she told Bragi. She smiled at Idunn, and bid them both goodnight, before walking back into the trees and out of the grove.

Her walk through the city to Odin's palace was not interrupted, but she met the occasional drunk god or goddess returning home early from the feast. Of course she had no doubt it would last till morning, and it was still pitch dark. She wondered whether her absence had been noted. She hoped Freyja, or anyone else for the matter, would not take it as a sign of ungratefulness and take offence. Not much to do about it now, she reasoned and shrugged it off. She could never handle those festivities quite well. She would aleays find herself drained and missing bed earlier than most, and she would only sit it through out of obligation.

She hardly registered walking through the palace, she just realized at some point that she had gotten to her room. She changed into a nightgown and laid on the bed, strangely feeling less sleepy than when she had been sitting on the hard packed dirt in Idunn's grove. She had really enjoyed Iddun's and Bragi's company, and on the whole the discordant night had ended in a pleasant note. Her mind still wandered to the feast, and to the way Loki had talked to her. This behaviour of his puzzled her. One moment he was perfectly warm and respectful, despite what everyone had told her about him, and the next he was lashing out and full of scorn.

But in reality, the most worrisome to her was how Loki had disregarded his own life; first by endangering it, and then by presenting his potential death as a mere quick fix to Sigyn's problem.

Might try to talk some sense into him, was her last semi-coherent thought. Then unconsciousness came, and in the morning she would not remember having it.