Sigyn started awake, from a nightmare of falling, down through space. Stars had streamed past, casting no light and singing no songs, and everything she grasped slid right through her translucent fingers. Residual fear held her heart pounding in her throat until she thrust herself out of her narrow bed.
She fled the room, grown too close and small for comfort, to walk the silent halls of Asgard’s shining palace, arms clutched close about her chilled body.
Loki sighed and walked towards the palace, a grim look on his face. He had been assisting the Asgardian engineers with the redesign of the bi-frost, one of the conditions of his very tenuous release, and it had been a long exhausting day. It was certainly tiring to have to constantly be aware of your words and actions, that everyone is scrutinizing your every move, distrust and sometimes fear hiding poorly behind their eyes.
He was fiddling with his cuff, lost in thought as he turned the corner and ran right into someone. They fell back with a soft thud and Loki, being somewhat of a wall, was only snapped out of his preoccupation with the day.
Sigyn fumbled a hand to the wall, shoving hair out of her face. “Oh, gods, are you alright?” she blurted, before looking up … and up. Tall, dark, slim … no one she knew. But she knew so few of the denizens of Asgard.
“I’m so sorry,” she continued. “I just … I’m so sorry. I should have been paying attention.” She put a hand on his sleeve.
He was a little startled but regained his composure almost immediately. “Oh, no no, my fault entirely, please, it’s fine, oh, here, please, are you okay?” He had to smile at the situation, talking over each other, fussing; he smiled slightly but it disappeared when she looked up at him. She was captivating. Long dark locks, beautiful violet eyes.
Loki didn’t realize he was staring at her until he felt pressure on his arm that snapped him out of his astonishment. He quickly registered that she was apologizing and shook his head.
“No, I do believe it was my fault, I’ve been most distracted today… I.. I’m not sure that I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you before, I’m sure I would have remembered.”
Sigyn pulled her hand back quickly, ducking her head. Her hair slid across her face, obscuring her blush. “I … haven’t lived in the Realm Eternal for long. I am Sigyn, from Alfheim.” Shyly, she tucked one stand of hair behind a gently pointed ear.
Who was this man? His green eyes were sharp, and something in the line of his mouth spoke of a temper, yet Sigyn thought he seemed unwontedly solicitous for someone encountering a stranger in the deeps of the night.
Alfheim! Loki’s feelings of curiosity grew. He had met few elves in his time but hadn’t paid much attention to them. None had this Sigyn’s look about her. He was intrigued.
“Sigyn, a beautiful name,” he smiled and took her hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss, “I am Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard.”
All irritated and worrisome thoughts from the day vanished.
Sigyn’s blush deepened as Loki kissed her hand. Here was gallantry in rare form, and an Asgardian prince, at that! “It is an honor, my lord.” She tried to retrieve her hand, feeling as though her face was scalding.
Could this be more embarrassing, nearly running over Odin’s handsome son in an echoing hallway, and herself tousled from nightmares and ill-dressed? Sigyn drew in a deep breath, trying to calm her pulse. “Please forgive my rudeness.”
He was enthralled by her reaction, the blushing, the nervous movements; he could feel her pulse racing at her wrist and he only slightly tightened his grip on her hand when she tried to pull it away.
“There is nothing to forgive, I assure you.” He smiled and then it wavered and was replaced with a look of concern.
Her hand was cold. He had not noticed it before since his own… unique physiology was altered. He quickly placed his other hand around hers briefly and then onto her shoulder.
“My dear, you’re cold.” The furrow in his brow deepened, “I shall escort you back to your quarters.”
She expected his hands to be hot against her chilled skin, yet Loki’s touch was merely a pleasant warmth. But nothing about this unexpected encounter had made sense. Sigyn started to protest, then shut her mouth. It would be ill-done of her to argue with him.
Yet she could not help the feeble flicker of shyness. “I would not wish to take up your time. Surely, waking at this hour, you have some task in hand besides attending to a wandering elf?”
“You would be mistaken, I am presently unengaged.” He shrugged off his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders, and offered her his arm. “Tell me, why *are* you wandering the halls at this time of night, Ms. Sigyn?”
The blush came back, so hard her ears turned pink. “I had a nightmare,” she whispered. Hesitantly, she tucked her hand in his arm and guided the two of them toward her small chambers. With the other hand, Sigyn clutched the throat of Loki’s jacket closed to keep it from slipping off her narrow shoulders.
Pure amazement held her pulse high. That this beautiful man should pay even this little attention to her was out of her ken; though few elves were outcaste, she was enough different from even her close kin as to be isolated. True elvish beauty was far different than her dark, dramatic looks, and none of her own had before paid her even the slightest court.
But then, that was why she had come to Asgard in the first place.
“A nightmare…” He furrowed his brows slightly, tugged back into his own memories of such things. He was able to pull himself back and looked down at her. He placed his hand gently over hers, sighing, and slowed his walking slightly. “Do you need an ear to listen?”
He was transfixed by her beauty. He had never seen an elf with such colouring before. He wanted to know more about her; why was she in Asgard? What caused her nightmares? What gave her… pleasure. He couldn’t help the slightly-evil smirk cross his face at that thought, but quickly replaced it with a more chaste, comforting smile and reprimanded himself, though only slightly.
Sigyn essayed a slight smile, ducking her head. “Sometimes I dream of falling. It’s always dark, but the worst part,” she hesitated, “is the solitude.” She shivered just calling up the memory of that absolute absence. Fear closed its hand around her throat, and involuntarily she gripped Loki’s arm more tightly.