Sigyn's Discovery (Part 1)

Moving On - SIGYN

The puffiness around my eyes when I awoke had nothing to do with the way I'd painted them the night before. My tears washed away all the black and gold, leaving behind soreness and irritation. It hadn't helped that I'd stayed awake for longer than I should have, screaming nasty things into my journal in case Loki had the gall to look at it again. He'd know precisely what I thought of him, even the things I hadn't considered in the moment—why did so many perfect responses only occur to me after the fact?

Tiwaz didn't return at all, so I was alone in my chamber. His absence made me more lonely. But there was one good thing about Theoric's excess cologne—my black dress was still covered in it, and I smelled him when I brought it to my nose. Loki's fresh scent didn't linger, which was a fact I mourned not long ago. Now, I was grateful for it.

I belong with an Asgardian. A good man who keeps his promises without betrayal. Memories of the banquet played in my head as I dressed and reported to the kitchen; I tried to recall them in exquisite detail, but much of our conversation was lost to my fatigue after the battle. What I knew for sure was how Theoric made me feel, and I held on to every ounce of cozy warmth he gave me.

As I walked toward the sinks, Thyra immediately set upon me for details. "Sigyn, you must tell me everything. We have piles upon piles today and nowhere else to go, so don't rush through it."

I snickered, hiding my face as if I blushed, though I was still too focused on Loki at the forefront of my mind to do so. Come now, girl, make an effort. I performed for her to hide my thoughts. "It wasn't anything special, really. A feast like any other, I suppose."

She playfully hit my shoulder. "Not the meal. You know what I want." Her excitement told me every word would be repeated and twisted out of my control, so it was best to say as little as possible.

"Oh, like how Theoric never left my side?" I smiled at her.

Thyra squealed, overly entertained by the drama of a budding romance. "Yes, precisely that. He was stunning when he called on you yesterday. The music rattled my chamber on the other side of the great hall; please tell me he invited you to dance."

The dance. Another reminder of the other man flipped my stomach over. Loki's footwork was superior to Theoric's by far—but he didn't deserve a second thought. I shook my head to banish him before answering. "He did, yes. Not bad, considering he had all his armor to maneuver."

Before Thyra could respond, another servant turned the corner from the pantry. Liv and I hadn't chatted often, but she was Thyra's closest friend. She chimed in as if already well-versed in our conversation. "I can't believe you would want someone so noble and...so boring, Sigyn," she said, continuing with her chores without meeting my gaze. "Captain of the Crimson Hawks. I've heard he doesn't even have a scar."

"Well, that I wouldn't know." I made eyes at Thyra for gossiping about me so openly, though it confirmed my suspicions that nothing we discussed would be private. "But I am sure to know if that's true sooner or later, won't I?"

"It's not just that which makes him dull, you know," Liv said, tittering under her breath.

I eyed Thyra, who shrugged.

"What does that mean?" I asked, doing my best not to sound irritated.

"Those Hawks have a celibacy pledge. Was ordered by the king ages ago."

Thyra gasped and jumped from foot to foot while beaming. "But not if they're married! Just think of it...Lady Sigyn of House Theoric. I can see it now. Brought together by war, forever joined in love!"

I nervously snickered along with her, but my heart sank to the bottom of my feet. Celibacy pledge? Is that why I didn't earn a goodnight kiss? Finding out by way of the other servants did have its upside—I wouldn't make a fool of myself and attempt to seduce him. If I did so, it would only prove that I was too easy to bed. Loki couldn't win that way.

In the same breath, I wondered if Loki knew about the rule. If he did, why would he explode with jealousy? Perhaps he had no faith that the soldiers could keep their word. But Theoric was the most honorable of them all, unlikely to stray from his rules.

Marriage. My throat caught on the word and what followed. Love. Does it really exist?

It occurred to me that Loki's hand up my skirt might very well be the last time I let another man touch me until my wedding night. My body ran ice cold at the thought.

"Sigyn? You alright?" Thyra asked, weaving her face before mine to get my attention. "You've turned pale."

"I...I need more rest," I said, grateful that my feeling ill was visible enough to potentially get me out of work without too many questions.

With concern in her voice, Thyra handed me a towel to dry my hands. "Of course. Busy night. After yesterday, you've earned it. Go...I'll see you tomorrow, yes?" She ushered me down the hall to my chamber.

A note with a single red rose sticking out was tucked into the hinge of my door. I was too overwhelmed to feel anything but dizzy when I saw it, though it helped to receive a token from Theoric. His intent to woo me wasn't a question or a doubt.

My Darling Sigyn, I will call on you tomorrow. – Theo

I pecked the note and was grateful to have another rose to dry within my journal since Loki destroyed the last out of spite. He couldn't keep up with the soldier's persistence.

Tiwaz waited for me inside and growled when I entered, much the same way he did when I returned from the banquet. He flicked his tail angrily, never taking his eyes off the door, as if he'd been guarding it.

"You don't approve, do you?" I shook my head and put the note and flower on my desk before kicking off my shoes to lie down. "Well, I think he's a fine man, and certainly one more appropriate than the one you seem more fond of. This isn't a battle you're going to win, Tee."

He moved closer to the door without looking my way and sat, ever watchful in case my new visitor came again.

I closed my eyes and surrendered my body to a new dream—a happy future with my soldier, sweet Theo, who chose me from the masses of women who would fall over themselves to get close to him. He would no doubt make an attentive husband.

The token left me feeling light, letting me drift away to sleep. But I did not think of love, nor did I ever write of it. Love was something sacred. Selflessness. Sacrifice. It was more than the girls down the hall ever knew. Taking care of Father in his final days was real love—not a simple gift or a word to be wasted. Loki's snarky insistence that I thought he might love me stung deep, and I replayed that part of our argument in my head. Perhaps I put the emotion on a pedestal, but it was only done to protect my own heart.

I dreamed of a day when I might leave the palace and be a good wife to Theo. I could bear his children. I could keep a clean home. We'd live many long years in simple bliss, even if deep down, I knew the words were empty.