There wasn’t much for the aide to find out, really. No one seemed to know much of anything about her, at least not in Asgard proper. She was exactly as she claimed she was, an alfr, elf, recently petitioned for residence in the Realm Eternal, of minor but enough rank to be granted chambers in the palace itself, if inconveniently placed ones.
Sigyn knew nothing of this search for information. She had scurried back to her rooms in haste, finding her way more easily by daylight but struggling to apply her wildlands magic to stealth indoors. When she finally reached her own chambers, she closed the door and fell back against it, panting.
She stared around, feeling like a stranger in her own skin. The mirror caught her eye, and she crossed to look at herself in it, marvelling at her memories. Those memories occupied her in a daze as she changed into a soft day dress, drifting about the fringes of the court.
The day was long and tedious, filled with workers who asked too many questions, engineers arguing against his designs, contractors trying to haggle prices. Loki’s lack of good sleep and his distraction at his thoughts of Sigyn made him irritable.
When the day was finally over, he tracked down the aide and was again disappointed. Nothing. Almost no information on Sigyn he didn’t already know. He was tempted to shoot the messenger but thought better of it when he remembered the conditions of his parole.
He went back to his room, showered, changed, and went off in search of Sigyn.
As evening began to fall, Sigyn wandered out-of-doors, turning her face up to the waning sunlight. Closing her eyes, the amber light made shadowed patterns on her eyelids. But what brought her pleasure only a day ago was made less by the memories of the night before; the liquid tension of Loki’s touch. Would she ever see him again?
She opened her eyes, and there he was, sharp and elegant, drawing the gaze like a magnet. Across the courtyard he strode, apparently in some haste. Startlement made her mute.
It didn’t take long for Loki to locate Sigyn; he saw her on the other side of the courtyard and made his way over. He smiled at her startled look.
“My dear, Miss Sigyn. I have found you. How are you this evening?” He grabbed her hand in his and gave it a gallant kiss.
Clearing her throat, she managed, “I am well, my lord. You were seeking me?” She willed herself to be strong, not to blush and stammer or be embarrassed, and curled her fingers in his. “Will you … sit with me, and tell me about your day?”