Sigyn's Discovery (Part 1)

Boundaries (LOKI)

Asgard grew in the weeks that followed the war, mending itself like I mended my armor. The city was not the same place it was in my childhood, with hidden pockets of dilapidation—once the crumbled remains of Chitauri attacks were rebuilt, I focused on the poorest regions. Buildings weren't antiques to be preserved for centuries. The people valued roofs over reverence.

All the planning and drafting and private conferencing with families kept me too busy for casual strolls through the palace, though that also meant I could readily avoid Sigyn and her soldier. I'd assigned Theoric tasks that kept him largely out of the palace, and Sigyn's new position meant she had a predictable schedule of her own. She hadn't sent me a token of thanks—not that I expected it—but my new regular callservant, Thyra, confirmed that Sigyn was pleased with the change.

More than once, when the Odinsleep chamber shone too brightly for me to rest in the seat next to it, I disguised myself as a nameless guard and patrolled the second floor. Tiwaz stood at Sigyn's door like a statue, almost unrecognizable from the playful ball of fluff he was in the basement.

With the hall completely empty otherwise, I couldn't resist and threw a few sprites of light for him to chase across the floor. He slid into one wall and then the other, cackling at the imaginary creatures before him.

It brought me joy to find amusement anywhere, but especially with the small beast. An odd sort of familiarity and comfort. He and I had an understanding of each other—no expectations or demands. I envied him somewhat, his freedom, even his hidden power. Tiwaz knew things no one else could imagine, evident by the smug nature of his walk and every twitch of his long ears.

Alas, he confirmed Sigyn was not home.

I returned to Odin's chamber and poured over maps of the city, intent to forget her as fast as possible. I was too busy to be jilted. Too busy building my kingdom anew. Too busy to think about servants and soldiers or anything threatening to upset my disguise.

Yet in my delirium, the twisted lines on the page that traced paths from one end of the city to the palace mimicked the shape of her face. She looked through me as she'd always done, pulling my attention without being present. Her fire was too hot for my ice to put out.

***

The golden city was rebuilt faster than expected, and four months after the war ended, the many people who had taken refuge in the lower floors settled into their new homes. To celebrate the new era—one built without Thor's nagging presence—music played in the streets at all hours, lasting well into the night.

I'd come to appreciate my perch in the bell tower, watching from above because I couldn't watch my back. Only there did I drop Odin's form and breathe the air as myself. I would've considered it too high a risk, except for the fact that no one had yet noticed my presence there at all, let alone recognized me from the ground. It was the closest thing I had to real freedom.

In the courtyard below, people danced and laughed heartily, enough that I could hear booming voices—it was so high up though, none of the sounds matched the movements of their mouths. I was all the more detached. Would Odin, in such circumstances, socialize with them? Or did he love Frigga for this purpose, to have a single confidant when fighting was over and battles were won? Loneliness washed over me, painting the world in deep blue. I shook my head to banish it, telling myself that solitude would equate to greater strength in the future.

At the back of the courtyard, against the stone wall, a long table teemed with red-clad soldiers. From above, they reminded me of pecking chickens, turning this way and that like a disconnected yet uniform swell of motion. Not a single one of them was alone; they'd still managed to find companions despite how busy I'd kept them and the ridiculous rules Odin set in place ages ago. It was an antiquated idea—to remain pure as a fighter—but reversing it might've drawn more eyes to the differences between my rule and what the people expected of their king.

Sigyn looked up as I scanned the table a second time. My heart shot to the top of my throat and I gripped the edge of the balcony.

Do you see me? I froze, unable to move away for fear of drawing more attention.

Even with the distance, I recognized the playful smirk lacing her face. She ignored the many excited people around her who were too distracted to notice where she stared.

My gaze locked with hers. I felt her heartbeat. Smelled her skin. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend she was still with me, dancing high above the city streets.

But Sigyn didn't bother pretending we hadn't seen each other. She no longer had ire in her expression. Whatever bitterness concerned us dangled in the space between the bell tower and the courtyard. We'd either reel it in to make it last, or let it go.

If I'd learned nothing from Mother's death, I might've glared. Broken my promise. Sent her Hawk to battle a beast he had no hope against. But the changing season meant Frigga's star shone directly above us both, rosy gold and flickering. It softened me. I gave Sigyn a single nod—a signal of my approval and acknowledgment.

She made the gesture back to me, just in time for Theoric to appear at her side and gesture widely at the table before them, making some announcement before raising his glass in a toast.

I didn't linger after that. Restlessness inOdin's chamber was my self-inflicted prison, where at least the only judgmentaleyes who questioned me were my own.