Sigyn's Discovery (Part 1)

Investigation (SIGYN)

The day's events pulled my limbs toward the floor in fatigue. Tiwaz woke up and stretched when I entered my room and greeted me with a quiet trill. It was certainly more appealing to focus on the cat than my contemplations, so I let him push his head against my cheek aggressively. I sat on the mattress and buried my face in his soft fur.

His loud purrs soothed me away from all stress. Somehow my woolly companion could sense that I needed the distraction and wouldn't relent with his snuggling until I gave a smile. "Okay, it's time to sleep, you," I said, pulling him off my lap and back onto the foot of the bed. I changed into my black sleeping robe, settled under the covers, and stared at the ceiling while Tiwaz pushed his paws back and forth into my side. My fingers caressed his long-haired ears with one hand while I stared at the brooch from my pocket in the other. With my room being so dark now, there was little point in checking for the second skirt under the bed.

I fidgeted with the pin, back and forth, opening and closing it again until I could no longer hold my arm up in front of my face. The night crept in and lulled me to a deep sleep.

Frigga's chambers filled my mind—the vanity table in her bedroom, with its impressively large mirror, stood before me. I stared at my reflection and gasped when Odin appeared at my side. Every time I turned to meet him face to face, he dissipated. Heartbeats made a frantic soundtrack as I searched every shining surface—from the smooth marble pillars to the serene pool by the balcony—trying to capture his glance.

Behind me, without the mourning veil and exposed, Loki's helmet gleamed. I held still and stared, certain it whispered my name in Loki's deep voice. With every step toward it, my feet crashed on the floor, growing ever louder and bellowing off the ceiling and walls.

Sigyn...Sigyn...

My hands shook on either side of the horns before I picked it up. It was heavy, like a magnet kept the helmet in place on the pedestal, but I successfully raised it to my face's height. The deep gold looked wet and swirling, as if melted, making a whirlpool of black that slowly turned bright green. At its center, my face finally appeared, as did another.

Odin didn't stand behind me. This time it was Loki, grinning madly, laughing in echoes that rattled my heart and filled the space in a sinister threat. It wasn't the version of him I'd invented in misguided youth when I hoped the attractive prince would notice me—this was different. The energy coming off him was thick and suffocating, smothering me in a secret that meant he was every bit as dangerous as all the rumors about him implied.

I screamed and dropped the helmet, knocking over the pedestal too when I bolted for the door. The clatter and chaos while I tried to escape woke me from sleep and threw me back to reality.

Yet in my room, I still heard him. The voice. The laughter. I jolted up in bed with sweat beading down my face. Remember...I remember... I shut my eyes tight and rubbed my temples, trying to recall every instant of the previous two days. I did not imagine it...I knocked off the helmet. It was me. But...why Loki? I couldn't stand the idea of letting the nightmare linger and paced the room instead, hoping the cool floor against my feet would ground me. Tiwaz was disturbed by my sudden alertness and fussed loudly by the door. After a few minutes of listening to my own heartbeat next to the cat's cries, I couldn't stand it any longer. I slipped into my quietest shoes and made my way out to the palace's halls in the dead of night.

Tiwaz followed close behind for a few doors but abandoned me in favor of the kitchen courtyard, where he generally preferred to be when not in my arms. I was relieved to not have his voice give me away. The stairs to the judgment hall were taller than normal somehow—with every lift of my knees, my thighs ached with exhaustion.

Frigga's chamber waited at the top of the stairs. If I get another look, I'll be able to sleep. Just a single look. I tried to convince myself that nothing was amiss and my foolish vision was nothing more than that.

But wait—I locked the door. I can't get in.

I stopped dead with this and considered turning around. Yet the door whispered the same way the helmet did in my dream. My name, over and over again, in a hiss that could've been nothing more than the wind.

I can't get in...can I?

With only a few steps between me and the door, I tentatively closed the gap. No lights escaped beneath its frames. I wrapped my long fingers around the handle and let out a breath; the metal felt like ice compared to the warm evening air. I closed my eyes. Just check the door and move on. Slight tension gave way to nothing—the lock was too heavy and substantial. Afraid of making too much noise, I pressed my body against the wood and tried again. With a heavier attempt, the handle twisted with a forgiving click. The hinge of the door creaked as it opened.

I know I locked that door. Slinking in just the same, I was careful to close it behind me and give another firm twist to the latch. Closed from the inside, no one from the hall could come in.

No candles or torches lit the room, only the moonlight and city glow off the balcony. I hummed a quiet tune to myself for comfort. With music to keep me company, I made my way around the reflecting pool, avoiding the reason I arrived for fear that it would reveal more than I was ready for.

I shook my head. This is silly. With conviction and a huff, I marched toward the helmet and whipped off the sheet, picking the headpiece up by the horns and twisting it side to side like a crystal ball and hoping for a fortune. Nothing but my own tired face returned a gaze. I twisted to the right, then the left, grateful that nothing else appeared. With a cocked brow and a curled lip, I replaced the memorial and covered it again. I wiped my hands on my sides and turned to leave.

But a figure skulked toward me from the door. He wasn't there before. His heavy boots made distinct plods.

I was frozen in place—not with fear, but a spell. Despite my wish to flee or scream, every muscle in my body that wasn't merely allowing me to breathe was paralyzed.

The man had his head hung low, with his face to the floor, until he stepped into the room enough for a line of moonlight to strike his face.

Loki, a dark tower of an imposing man, stoppedwith merely a few inches between us. "Are we going to have a problem, Sigyn?"