Sigyn's Discovery (Part 1)

A Night With A Gentleman (SIGYN)

Life in the palace was quick to resume. So quick, I hadn't had time to see my room before I was yanked into chore delegation.

Of course the war's end would call for a banquet, and of course I was present when it was announced to the servantry, trapping me for a shift. As usual. Still, it was better than preparing for another mass funeral or feeding sullen wounded. My foray into combat was short-lived and, evidently, less necessary to the cogs of Asgard than my work behind the kitchen sink.

But now I whizzed through the plates I'd left unfinished at a fast clip while thinking about the soldier. He was so unlike the other men I'd known throughout my life—for starters, I knew nothing about his faction, the Crimson Hawks, or why they were set apart from the rest, but I was willing to put in the work and learn more. Perhaps he was an intellectual like I hoped and would carry on about the many places he had been. Surely someone as breathtaking as him could never be a bore. I invented many things about him in my mind, not the least of which, an ability to keep his word.

A few people whispered in the hall behind me, just out of reach for me to understand; I presumed they were discussing some of the damage left behind by the Chitauri I killed. That is, until I heard his honeyed voice.

"Yes, there she is."

My hair stood on end as my stomach rushed. I spun to make sure he was real.

Theoric took careful steps toward me, plodding in quiet, soft leather boots. His whole outfit reminded me of one worn by the male servants of the house. A loose ivory tunic flowed over his chest and revealed a thick nest of dark hair on his sternum. Unlike Odin's breastplate which gave a false impression of what lied beneath, I got the impression Theoric's armor had been molded to his chest, right down to the slim waist behind his black belt. Tan trousers hugged his thighs, showing off their power, proving his physique was even from top to bottom. The soldier had washed in the time since I saw him and tied his dark hair in a low ponytail, adding to his humble yet impressive appearance.

I tucked the same stubborn hair strand behind my right ear, not sure what else to do with my hands. My friend Thyra stood slightly behind Theoric and gave me several face-fanning gestures of envy.

"Dear Sigyn, I have come to fulfill my promise," he said, presenting a small bundle wrapped in beige cloth. "It was cleaned by Asgard's finest blacksmith, though she assured me it had no need for sharpening!" Theoric tipped his face to the side, hardly able to stand at full height before me. "Forgive the wrapping—it needs a scabbard."

"Yes, I have one in my chamber." I took the bundle with a slight bow. "You came so soon...forgive me for not being more presentable."

"Nonsense. I am sorry for not taking the chance to get to know you the first time I laid eyes on you." Theoric smiled with closed lips. "I can only hope not to make the same mistake again."

I blushed, still fiddling with my hair. What flattery...

"My lady, while you are almost certainly reserved already, I must ask if you are willing to attend this evening's banquet as my companion." He spoke with a gentle, meek tone, yet everything about him screamed dominance. It was a different kind of juxtaposition than what I was used to—and something I welcomed.

But an invitation...that was new, especially to something of such importance. "M-me? You want me to attend banquet with you?"

"Yes, of course," he said, his blue eyes ever brightening like clear afternoon sky.

"Gods...I've only ever seen them from their aftermath when the cleaning happens—"

"Who do you answer to? Surely they can be persuaded to let you celebrate our victory, and certainly your own. Asgard should know your name. I'll speak with your superior at once."