Chapter Text
In her chambers, Sigyn is enraptured in the pages of a book, lost in thought and not truly processing the words. Usually, she is taken by Jotunheim’s culture and their practices, but recently, she finds herself rather distracted. She really must speak with Loki today. She’s been patient enough, dealing with constant interruptions, distractions, and stresses within the last few weeks, but this is it. Waiting much longer is not a viable option.
The familiar squawks of Huginn and Muninn pierce the air, tapping insistently on her window. Curiously, Sigyn approaches the birds, who seem agitated as they flap their wings outside her window. They squawk urgently at her, and she raises her hands, trying to calm them. Gently, she holds out her arm for them to perch on.
“Calm down, calm down. I am not Odin, I cannot understand you when you speak so quickly. One at a time, please,” she says, and they land obediently on her arm. Huginn is the one who speaks, and Sigyn has to strain herself to understand, but as she listens, their urgent message becomes clear. “You’re sure?” she asks, her brow furrowing with concern.
Her question earns a rather rude, loud squawk from Muninn, and she smiles apologetically. “Yes, yes, alright. Thank you, both of you.” With a wave of her hand, she summons forth birdseed in her palm, rewarding the messengers for the apt delivery. They peck happily for their reward, their feathers ruffling with excitement. She dusts off her hands as they fly away. “Go and alert Loki, darlings,” she calls after them, “He will want to be prepared.”
Sigyn’s shoulders slump as she steps back from her window, shutting and locking it. Another distraction. Another issue to deal with. Isn’t that just lovely?
Moving swiftly, Sigyn ties back her hair and hurriedly makes her way toward the Bifrost. Her steps echo as she walks, not stopping until she arrives at the entrance atop the observatory. She pauses as she slowly approaches the unsettling scene before her, her eyes taking in the grisly sight. The acrid scent of blood and viscera fill the air, causing her to cringe slightly, her hand instinctively moving to protect her uneasy stomach.
Thor stands tall and imposing, conversing with a very annoyed Skurge, the man that Loki appointed the new Watchman in place of Heimdall. At their feet lay the severed head of a dragon, its lifeless eyes still reflecting in the light, and a pool of viscous purple blood and guts stain the floor and walls. Sigyn watches from the shadows, unnoticed by the two men engrossed in their conversation.
“Well, well, look who decided to pop in,” Skurge hisses, wiping the mess of the dragon’s remains off of his armor. He casts a wary glance at Thor, his expression sour. “Thanks for scaring away my company and drenching my workplace in brains.”
Thor replies with narrowed, suspicious eyes, “Who are you?”
Skurge pauses, and he looks almost offended as he turns to face Thor, “You don’t remember? I’m Skurge.” He says, and Sigyn has to cover her mouth so that she does not laugh at the utterly blank look upon Thor’s face. Skurge’s shoulders sag in exasperation. “The Executioner,” he adds, and Thor only blinks, his face remaining impassive. “…We fought together on Vanaheim?” Skurge tries, but Thor’s expression remains almost humorously blank, prompting him to give up with a resigned sigh.
Thor folds his arms, his gaze intense as he scrutinizes Skurge, looking around the observatory. “Where’s Heimdall?” He demands, his voice firm.
Skurge shakes his head, wiping the sticky goop of dragons’ blood off of Hofund. “No one knows. He is a fugitive of the throne, the traitor,” he says, his brows furrowing as he speaks, his movements tense and agitated.
“Traitor?” Thor asks, his disbelief evident as he frowns deeply, eyebrows lifting in shock.
Skurge nods, explaining, “Indeed. You see, Odin charged Heimdall with negligence of duty, but he disappeared before the trial. It is not easy to catch a man who can see everything in the Nine.”
Thor opens his mouth to continue before his gaze flicks to Sigyn, taking notice of her eavesdropping. His heart warms as he sees her smile and wave at him, and he can’t help but grin in return. “Sigyn!” Thor exclaims with joy, his voice echoing through the chamber. Sigyn’s eyes shine with affection as she greets him.
“Hello, darling.” Without hesitation, Thor rushes up to Sigyn and envelops her in a crushing embrace, lifting her off the ground.
Sigyn’s laughter fills the room as she tries to return the hug as best as she can before Thor gently sets her back down. He gazes into her eyes with a comically large grin, his elation evident. “How did you know I was back?”
Sigyn smiles knowingly, replying, “The ravens.” She takes his hand, guiding him toward the observatory’s exit, “Come, I’ll help you get settled. Your father will want to have counsel with you later.”
At the mention of his father, Thor’s smile falters briefly, a shadow crossing his features. There is a twitch in his expression, and Sigyn pauses before he nods. “Right. My father,” he responds, though there is still a strange uncertainty in his words.
He grabs Sigyn by the waist, his grip firm as he prepares to take off with Mjolnir in hand, ready for their departure. However, before they can leave, Skurge attempts to interject, “One moment, your majesty. I am to announce your arrival—”
Ignoring Skurge’s words, Thor winds his arm, spinning his hammer in a quick motion. With a powerful swing, he lifts them both into the sky, Sigyn clinging to him as they soar away from the observatory.
Left alone in the aftermath of their departure, Skurge sighs heavily, his shoulders slumping. He goes to find a communicator, muttering under his breath, “He has not changed since Vanaheim.”
As Thor gently sits Sigyn down in Asgard’s courtyard, she staggers slightly, overcome by nausea and a wave of dizziness from the swift flight. With a hand resting on her abdomen, Sigyn tries to calm the unpleasant churning in her stomach as she takes a moment to steady herself. Meanwhile, Thor’s attention is immediately drawn to a small crowd making their way through a threshold, their movements leading his gaze to a monumental statue that stands tall and imposing in the center of the courtyard.
The statue depicts Loki with his arms outstretched in a ‘savior’ pose, golden and towering. Thor’s expression twists into disbelief as he turns to Sigyn, appalled. He points with Mjolnir at the towering figure. “What in the Nine is this?”
Sigyn, still trying to settle her queasy stomach, explains with a hint of unease, “A memorial statue in Loki’s honor. There is a matching one for your mother in her garden. Odin wanted to commemorate them after their deaths.” A perturbed look still lingers for a bit in Thor’s eyes as he processes the information, and Sigyn finds it difficult to guess what he is thinking.
She smoothes back her frazzled curls, finally feeling grounded enough to trust herself not to vomit. She can’t remember the last time flight had been so displeasing to her.
“Right. Where is my father?” Thor demands, his tone firm and urgent. Clearing her throat, Sigyn straightens herself, trying to appear more composed.
“Would you not rather get settled first?” She asks, “I’m sure—”
Cutting her off, Thor insists, “Sigyn, this is urgent.” Her expression shifts in response, a hint of concern crossing her features as she recognizes the stress in Thor’s eyes. She relents, nodding and folding her hands over each other.
She catches the way his eyes linger on the spotted scars on her hands, but she walks forward, speaking again before he gets the opportunity to question. “Very well. He is in the courtyard. I will take you to him, but we may interrupt the play,” she replies.
Thor pauses in his path to follow, confusion plain on his face. “The— The what?” He asks, but before he can inquire further, Sigyn is already walking towards the courtyard, her steps purposeful and quick. Thor hurries to catch up to her, his mind racing as they venture towards the heart of Asgard.
As they approach the courtyard, the sounds of dramatic music fills the air. On the stage, an actor gasps for breath, his performance capturing the hauntingly familiar moment of Loki’s death on Svartalfheim, dressed in his likeness. The actor’s movements are fluid and captivating, if a tad melodramatic.
In the background, a lone musician plays a haunting score, the melancholic notes adding a layer of emotional depth to the performance, or at least it is trying to. Thor watches skeptically, and there is a sour taste in his mouth. The music swells and ebbs, and the actor portraying Thor screams at the heavens as Loki’s actor goes limp in his arms. Amidst the solemn atmosphere of the play, Thor is startled by the sudden anguish of a woman beside him, openly sobbing at the performance.
An actor playing Odin delivers a monologue, holding a small boy painted blue in his arms, symbolizing a young Jotun Loki. “And so Loki died of his wounds, giving his life for ours. He fought the Dark Elves and avenged Asgard’s queen. His actions opened my eyes, and through his memory, I was able to bring about an era of peace between our realms,” the actor proclaims, his voice resonating with emotion. Thor’s eyes widen in shock when he realizes the detail on the child Odin’s actor is holding- too much detail for body paint.
That is a real Jotun child. On Asgard.
And no one is batting an eye?
The crowd erupts in rapturous applause, moved by the performances unfolding before them, which shocks Thor. Since when have the Jotnar been so readily accepted on Asgard? Aside from a few sour looks, there isn’t anyone expressing… the usual Asgardian bloodlust that accompanies any subject regarding the Jotnar. And since when do his people have such a love for theatre where no monster is being slain? Amidst the cheers and accolades, Thor grows impatient. His eyes scan the audience, searching for Odin.
He approaches Odin the moment he spots him, the All-Father applauding with his subjects, sipping wine in a lounging chair in the center of the courtyard, in perfect view of the stage. Thor strides confidently towards the king, making his way through the crowd. Citizens mutter and whisper around him, clambering to step out of his way.
“Father,” Thor addresses him, making a beeline for his Odin. Sigyn attempts to interject, however Odin is already speaking, smiling widely as he regards them. He greets Thor warmly, his eye twinkling with delight.
“Ah, yes, my son! Greetings, my boy.” Sigyn deflates a bit with naked relief at the welcome, tucking golden curls behind her ear.
“I was not aware you knew of his presence, your highness,” she says, curiously. Thor takes notice of his father’s ravens sitting upon a golden perch, their beady eyes watching the exchange intently. Odin dismisses her concerns with a wave of his hand.
“Nonsense. I sensed his arrival the moment he made it to the court,” he explains, turning back to Thor. He smiles again, and Thor does not think his father has ever been so happy to see him. “What brings you back to Asgard?”
Thor hardens his gaze, holding out the skull of Surtur. With a serious expression, he asks, “Do you know what this is?”
Odin leans forward with a hum, raising a brow in interest. He examines the skull with a knowing look, recognizing its significance. “The skull of Surtur. Quite the formidable weapon,” Odin states, straightening himself and snapping his fingers to summon a nearby Einherjar guard. “My son has brought another relic for the vault,” he says, issuing the directive with a rather grave expression. “Do me a favor and lock it away.”
The guard bows and takes the skull from Thor’s hand with trained obedience, slurring off. As it is ushered away for safekeeping, Odin turns his attention back to Thor, his demeanor shifting slightly. He clasps his hands behind his back as he continues, “That does beg the question, my boy. What were you doing on Muspelheim? I have worked tirelessly to forge allyship with the rest of the Nine. I cannot afford to have you rushing into things you do not understand and soiling that.”
Thor’s frustration bubbles to the surface as he clenches his fists tightly, the muscles in his arms straining. “Every night I see Asgard fall to ruin in my dreams,” he says, a thunderous rumble in his voice, “Imagine my shock when I investigate, and I hear that Surtur has a ridiculous idea that you, Odin All-Father, are not on Asgard. And that our realm has been left vulnerable. But you wouldn’t know anything about that.”
Sigyn blanches a bit at his blatant accusation, her face paling as she attempts to slot herself between Thor and Odin. “Thor,” she begins, and he can already hear the placating tone in her voice. She opens her mouth to continue, but Odin interjects, silencing her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Sigyn,” he says, his voice calm and measured, “We cannot keep it from him forever.” A silent conversation passes between the two of them and Sigyn nervously fidgets with her hair, stepping to the side with a nod. Odin turns his gaze to Thor, gesturing for him to follow. He calls over his shoulder to the guards, “I must speak privately with my son regarding family affairs. We shall return shortly.”
Thor follows silently, allowing Odin and Sigyn to lead him into the palace, his mind racing with questions and concerns. As they enter a private chamber, Odin turns to face his son, his expression grave.
“Thor, there are matters of great importance that I have kept from you,” he begins, his voice heavy, sounding worn. “The visions you have experienced are not mere dreams, but glimpses of a potential future; one that I have been working tirelessly to prevent.” Sigyn shifts uncomfortably, her eyes downcast as Odin continues.
“Surtur’s suspicions are not unfounded. There have been times when I have been absent from Asgard, attending to matters that threaten the very fabric of the Nine Realms.” He explains, and Thor’s brows furrow as he listens, his frustration mounting.
“What matters could be so grave that you would leave our realm unprotected?” Both of them guide Thor into Odin’s chambers, shutting the heavy doors behind them.
Odin holds up a hand, his gaze unwavering. “I understand your anger, my son. But you must trust that I have acted with the best interests of Asgard and all the realms in mind. There are forces at work, ancient and powerful, that seek to unravel the very existence we know.”
Sigyn steps forward, voice notably unsteady. “Thor, your father has been negotiating with beings beyond our comprehension, forging alliances and safeguarding the future of our people.” She says. “We have achieved peace with Jotunheim. Asgard is prospering.”
Thor’s grip tightens on Mjolnir, his knuckles turning white. “And what of the future have you seen, father? The destruction of Asgard?”
Odin’s expression hardens, his lone eye smoldering. “That is but one potential outcome, and one that I will not allow to come to pass. But to prevent it, I must continue my work, even if it means leaving Asgard for brief periods.” He says, and Thor is almost seething by the time he finishes, rounding on his father.
“Enough of this. I know it is you, Loki.” Thor growls. Odin’s eyebrow raises, and he laughs breathlessly, in disbelief.
“I beg your pardon?” He asks, and Thor feels his anger quickly mounting.
“Loki,” he snarls, stepping forward. “No more illusions.” Thor’s fingers tighten around Mjolnir’s handle as he stalks forward threateningly. Odin’s eye follows the line of his arms, watching him take up Mjolnir, and he deadpans in an achingly familiar expression, one that does not quite fit naturally on his face.
“Surely, you do not intend to strike me with that.” He says, and that prose, that manner of speaking is not Odin’s. The anger boiling within him threatens to spill over, but he takes a deep breath, steadying himself.
“I grow tired of your games.” He warns, speaking through gritted teeth. Odin and Sigyn share a brief look before he relents.
The illusion shimmers and dissolves, revealing Loki standing before him, wearing a plain green tunic and black pants. He raises his hands in a placating gesture. “Listen—”
He does not get to finish.
Thor, his face contorted in rage, punches Loki in the face, clocking him in the jaw. Loki stumbles backward in shock more than pain and Thor lunges towards him. Sigyn steps in front of him, shielding Loki, gold magic held in her palms. “Thor, stop!”
“How dare you!” Thor exclaims, looking over her at his brother, seething with fury. “How could you do this? You’re supposed to be dead!”
Loki raises his eyebrows, holding his bruising cheek with a grimace. He straightens himself, working his sore jaw before speaking. “Apologies for the disappointment,” he says with abundant insincerity. “I will try to ensure my death sticks next time.”
“I grieved for you, you snake!” Thor roars, held back by Sigyn’s hand on his chest, beside himself with anger. Loki smiles and it looks vicious, sardonic.
“That’s rich coming from you, isn’t it? Let me remind you of something you may have forgotten.” He says, and he steps closer to Thor, Sigyn between them the only barrier. “When I was lying broken and bleeding, you didn’t even look twice. Instead, you chose to run off and live on Midgard with your precious mortal.” He spits ‘mortal’ like an insult.
Thor growls with unspoken rage, a pang of grief rocketing through him at the reminder of Jane. Thunder rumbles ominously outside and Sigyn shakes her head at Loki, turning her head from Thor to look at him. “Love, please, don’t make this worse.”
“Define ‘worse’,” Loki says, dryly. Sigyn gives him a stern look, and she pushes Thor back with a light shove.
“Calm yourselves. Both of you!” She orders, looking between the two brothers. “This is not helping!”
“It’s fine, Sigyn,” Loki says, smiling that deadly smile again, “I think we’ve reached a mutual understanding.”
Sigyn gives him a skeptical look. “What do you mean?”
“He knows I’m alive now, and I know how much he truly cares about me.” He smirks at Thor, who rolls his eyes.
“Oh, shut up,” Thor grumbles.
“I swear to the Norns, if you don’t stop acting like children,” Sigyn hisses, tossing her hands up in exasperation. “We clearly have bigger things to worry about right now.” The two of them fall silent, and she breathes deeply, taking a moment to gather her words. “You two, take turns talking,” she commands. “Loki, you go first.”
“Alright, alright,” Loki relents, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “As you wish.” Thor has half a mind to point out the obvious bias with letting Loki go first, but he keeps quiet. Loki clears his throat, “I simply used the circumstances surrounding my apparent demise to my advantage. I enchanted the All-Father and sent him off to Midgard.”
Thor’s eyes widen as Loki explains his deception. That would mean that the last time he had thought he was speaking to his father, the only reason he was let off for his treason, the only reason he was able to go to Midgard… It was all Loki. He glowers at his brother, fingers clenching Mjolnir’s handle tightly. Loki meets his fiery gaze with a cool, unruffled expression.
“Odin has always been stuck in his ways. And that path only leads to destruction, I have foreseen it.” His voice takes on a harder edge. “While you were off gallivanting with your beloved Jane Foster, I was here, watching over Asgard, protecting our people from threats you failed to perceive.” Sigyn places a calming hand on Loki’s arm, her brow creased with concern.
“Love,” she mutters. Thor feels a seed of jealousy within him at the sight of their apparent closeness. Clearly, Sigyn was aware of the reality of the situation long before Thor was. Has she been helping him all this time?
“No, let him speak his mind,” Thor insists, jaw clenched. “I would have the truth of his treachery laid bare here and now.”
Loki’s eyes are alight with indignation and he laughs, one of those wicked sounding things that makes Sigyn’s skin crawl uneasily. “My treachery? I have acted only to preserve our realm, to safeguard our future!” He steps closer, undeterred by Thor’s menacing stance. “While you blindly followed Odin’s ambitions, I have been preparing the Nine for the much greater threat looming on our horizon!”
“What threat?” Thor asks, and Loki pauses for a moment. It takes him a few seconds to gather himself before he continues.
“Do you recall stories of a being called the Mad Titan from our youth?”
“You must be kidding. The Titan is a myth.” Thor scoffs, folding his arms indignantly. He is sick of all these lies, but what should he expect from Loki?
Thor watches as his brother tenses and bristles at his denial, green eyes flashing with several emotions before settling on a familiar irritation. “I assure you, he is real. More real than you know, and he is coming.” He insists vehemently, and his urgency seems… almost convincing.
But Thor decides to move on from it anyway, his mind going to another concern. “And what of our father?”
“He is perfectly safe,” Loki assures him, making a quick, dismissive gesture. “So you can stop your needling,” he says, and with a hint of bitterness, he adds, “And he is not my father.”
Thor laughs, the sound loud and harsh, echoing through the empty chamber. “Do you really expect me to believe anything you say?”
“No, actually.” Loki shrugs, and Thor glares at him as he continues. “But that is the truth. It is your choice whether or not you accept it.”
“If you have committed further betrayal against Asgard, against our family, I will show no mercy.” Thor warns, thunder booming threateningly outside as he tightens his grip around Mjolnir’s handle.
Loki looks down at the weapon, visibly unfazed before his lips curl in a humorless smile. “Yes, yes, I have heard this before. You speak of wanting to show mercy, yet your eyes already burn for my blood. I am familiar with your hypocrisies.” He shifts his weight, a subtle tension in his posture that Thor cannot decide if he is imagining or not.
“Brother,” Thor warns, the threat evident in his voice as he steps forward. The air crackles with the power of his hammer, and Loki’s gaze flicks back to it warily. Sigyn places a calming hand on Thor’s arm, her touch gentle but firm.
“Let him speak,” she whispers, her eyes pleading with him and Thor grumbles as he steadies his hand.
“If you insist, I will take you to him,” Loki offers. “You will believe me then, will you not?” He arches a brow, looking at Thor expectantly.
Thor’s jaw tightens, the muscles in his neck flexing as he considers the offer. There could be further deception, but if he is telling the truth…
After a moment, Thor gives a short, quick nod. “Very well,” he says, the words clipped. “Take me to him.”
Loki sighs, a touch of resignation in the sound, and closes his eyes, reaching for his seiðr. With a pensive expression, he opens his eyes to look at Sigyn. “Are you accompanying us?” He asks, his voice shockingly gentle as he addresses her. “The journey will be easier. And I fear if I go alone, the big blonde oaf might sooner kill me.” Thor huffs angrily at the insult, but he remains silent, his jaw clenched tightly.
Sigyn’s lips curve in a small, affectionate smile. “One moment,” she says, and she steps forward, closing the gap between the both of them. Loki’s eyes flutter shut reflexively and she lifts her fingers to the purpling bruise on his jaw, softly pressing against it.
With a gentle touch, she pulses her magic into it, and Loki hisses through his teeth at the pain, but it quickly subsides as she heals it. She smiles at her work and places a tender kiss on the now-healed area.
“There,” she says, her voice soothing and warm. Loki smiles at her, the tension in his features easing, and he lifts her hand to press a soft kiss to her knuckles.
“As always,” he says with audible affection and gratitude, “You are my savior.” Thor glares between the two of them; obviously he has missed more developments than he anticipated.
Loki intertwines their hands and turns back to Thor, his body glowing softly as he reassumes Odin’s likeness. The warmth in his expression that he held for Sigyn goes cold when he looks back at his brother. “Come. I will show you where your father is.”