His Queen | Book 1

Thirteen: Dis

The evening was quick and peaceful. Supper was over quickly and everyone had gone back to their quarters for the night after farewells and good nights for the evening. Loki hadn't joined supper tonight. That was understandable. It was laughter and jokes, but a long week had earned them all a good rest. Sigvard was in a spry mood, he laughed, drank, and swapped tales.

He told the story to Thor about Sigyn as a young curious girl. They were playing by the waterfalls edge behind the palace. Children often played there, jumping into the pool below. But young Sigvard and all his sisters were much too frightened to jump. So Sigyn was the first to throw herself over the edge in a jest of bravery. She was eleven at the time.

"Quite the rebel she was." he jested.

"I got into trouble with the kings guard." she replied.

Later that night, Sigyn found herself in the isolation of her chambers lit by candlelight. The last of her handmaidens wished her well after her bath, and the last candles were lit. And she was left with her thoughts and the nightly sounds of Asgard.

She tightened her robe around her waist, patting her wet hair dry with a towel. She sat by the crackling fire to hurry the process and she delved herself into a book. She sat with the warmth on her back and the peaceful evening evening around her. Finally, she was able to relax and let her mind settle and be calm.

She closed her book with a sigh.

Her concentration kept taking her thoughts elsewhere. To the wedding in a weeks time; to Loki. She wondered what he was doing. Was he reading? Playing with a knife, or perhaps already gone to bed to heal his wounds. Sigyn looks into the crackling fire. She felt terrible. She hasn't gone to see how he is doing.

His words like flowing wine pouring through her mind. Her heart picked up. Such words of grace to roll off his tongue had her swayed when she thought of them. And the kiss...

(I don't want this wedding to go on.)

Get rid of those thoughts.

Feathers ruffled by the doors. Sigyn's eyes are drawn to the balcony doors. A white barn owl sits on the railing. Beady black eyes stare right at her. It's elongated and heart shaped facial disc mimic Sigyn's face. She blinked, it blinked. Sigyn moves her head, and the owl followed her movements. It's ear tuffs upturn slightly - on the defensive.

Sigyn moved cautiously. She got to her feet and the owl takes off. It's wings silent and it swooped into the night. What a strange feeling. Like the owl told her something in her heart and she just knew what it said.

Sigyn looks around her chamber. It is empty and quiet except the occasional crackle of fire, and snap of a wood log. But she was not alone.

Sigyn sits on the sofa. Staring into the ever forming flames and the longer she stares the more the fiery orange seems to make strange shapes. The log cracked again and split in two. Embers are shot out into the air and they fade the higher they rise.

"A spell of safety, here I cast..." Sigyn whispers,

a ward of might to hold me fast–

a shield before me and behind,

to right and left protection bind.

To me may no ill wight come nigh,

but only she whose rede I cry!"

Her eyes reflect the wavering flames in the pit they are dying in. The candles around her chamber are chocked out and it is now entirely dark. She keeps her breath calm, preparing herself, waiting for who to come forth.