Sigyn's Discovery (Part 1)

Poisoned (LOKI)

"You brought this on yourself," Mother said, her projection standing before me in the dungeon. She shook her head in disappointment at my recklessness, my alliance with Thanos, and the attempt to reign over Midgard.

The last time I saw her. She'd never return.

Slime hit the bridge of my nose first, spreading over my eyes. There wasn't an instant reaction. It started as a barely detectable warmth that kept rising...tingling...stinging...finally scorching my skin as if millions of blisters bubbled under the surface and electrified my nerves, making sure every ounce of pain I could take would be felt at full force. Whatever woke me from the daze I had while traveling also made sure I couldn't lose consciousness from the agony.

Mother's voice repeated in the background. "You brought this on yourself."

Beyond the burn was a stench of death. It was putrid and thick and filling my nostrils, burying me in liquid souls, as if the beast dissolved and stored whole realms within its bowels for this purpose. It couldn't be compared to anything other than decay.

Every cell in my body tried to escape. I wrenched away from the wall so hard, my shoulder displaced. It was a tease to be placed so close to the edge with no way to jump off. Because my mouth was uncovered, at least for now, I gasped for air at the end of every painful, straining outburst.

Sigyn called for me, shrieking, sounding tortured herself. Her high pitch blended with the ringing in my ears, which would soon drown her out. "Stop it, please stop it. This isn't death!"

The poison went deeper, strangling my senses. Painful memories I tried to bury replayed themselves in vivid detail. I wasn't on the rock anymore. I was in the past, reliving the worst moments of my life.

First was the instant I learned I was different. The Jotun met my gaze with a knowing, smug pair of red eyes. Our complexions—they matched, beneath the vambrace that he crumbled with nothing but cold. Though I slayed him quickly, the damage to my psyche, to my whole existence, was already done.

A skip in the timeline and now I was falling, staring straight up to the bridge in my home after trying to destroy every last enemy. Thor yelled for me, but Odin did not. His beloved true son was his protégé, even if I was more suited in skill. I would no longer be a burden in his home.

What is real? What comes next? Another drop from the snake met my lips and I nearly choked. It was equally as revolting to my tongue as it was to my nose, and the tackiness prevented me from expelling it completely.

The flavor reminded me of the Chitauri and their sickly sweet blood. Now I saw my people running, people dying—innocents like Peorth, who were slain because I'd failed. Weeks they fought for me, and why hadn't I sought more assistance from Thor? As an imposter on the throne of Asgard, I had no business trying to defeat them. I had no worth at all.

"Am I not your mother?" she asked, attempting to prove that I wasn't alone.

"You're not," I said, and I sent her away. Frigga wasn't my mother. I had none at all.

Now a red-clad soldier, meeting me in height, asked for a blessing to take someone's hand. I said yes, of course. He was her match, not me. I was naught but a fool to think she'd take me back.

The snake's poison opened a window to misery. As it sank in, I lost what it felt like to care...to have peace, know redemption. The good washed away. Odin's harsh words, Thor's betrayal, and my own mistakes rooted themselves at the front of my psyche.

One enduring star in a dark sea of blue threatened to go out. "Which one is your favorite?"

No, please don't take that.

Every splash from above renewed my suffering. A tease of relief—the edge too far to leap from, yet too close to ignore—meant I'd stay here forever, reliving lost seconds. No point in praying for my heart to stop beating. Valhalla wouldn't have me. And did I have a heart at all?

Mother's admonishment grew to abuse. "You brought this on yourself."