Sigyn's Discovery (Marvel Loki Fanfic) - Chapter 3: Awakened from a Dream

A rumble on my chest awoke me. Tiwaz, my beloved cat, kneaded my cheek with his soft paws and a whine beneath his purrs told me he needed breakfast. His ginger striped fur, nearly as long as his impressive white whiskers, tickled my nose.


I stroked him to orient myself. My quarters. My bed. Dressed in gray from the night before. My hair was still half-tied in a coif at the back of my head, though it was messy from being slept on. The night was a blur, and I couldn’t remember anything beyond speaking with Odin in Frigga’s chambers at sunset.


Did I dream at all?


Either way, the day would not wait for me, and the sun’s position said I was behind schedule. After getting Tiwaz situated with some scraps from the kitchen, I began work on the huge mess from yesterday’s banquet. No one asked my whereabouts from the night before, thankfully, though I had an excuse ready if they did. Given the state of my hair and my clothes, it stood to reason that I was unwell and fell asleep at an unnaturally early hour.


A true carnage of soiled dishes made up my task for the day, and I set upon them with fervor. A busy body cannot think too much, as Father always said. The mountains of plates and mounds of silverware would be a beast to tackle on my own, but I enjoyed working without company. It let me daydream that I was elsewhere.


Chores were a necessary part of living anyway, so why should I be stuck in a basement kitchen when I could pretend to clean things in the sunlight? I pumped water into the sinks and imagined it was a mountain spring instead. I sang a tune to myself and wondered if birds would ever repeat me. Goosebumps surfaced over my legs, and I shivered when a draft flowed in from the hall. Cold didn’t belong in my fantasy. I patted my hips, and—


Wait.


My underskirt was gone. No wonder I’d felt the air with such little protection over me. I sighed to know I’d have to work while chilled and cursed myself for whatever happened last night that made me remove the green sheet but kept me from stepping into a proper nightgown. Tiwaz would surely roll around on it in my absence and leave small blond threads all over. Irritating, but I couldn’t focus on the skirt for long. Too much to do.


Apart from getting no memorable sleep, the day wasn’t unlike any other. As long as the few other servants who brought in more work didn’t develop the ability to read my mind, I could forget about the nag in my belly over upsetting Odin, which haunted me even though I had no real reason to think he would’ve cared enough to seek me out.


By mid-day, the mountains in the kitchen were reduced to less than half their size. My hands wrinkled from the water, but it helped relieve the calluses that speckled my fingers and palms. I drained another batch of hot water to take a small break since finishing one load meant another would pour in soon enough. Precious moments to relax during the day made me envy nobility, who only came to the palace for business or parties while adorned in metal and jewels. They didn’t have to prove their worth—it was presumed. Serving Frigga was as close as I’d ever come to such a status, and I only had the opportunity because Mother attended her before me. The servantry was one of the few places in Asgard where nepotism made a difference outside of the throne room.


Though my life was simple, I was grateful for it. Once my hands returned to a normal shape, I stood to resume my duties and didn’t get far.


Two soldiers, made taller by their lifted black boots and crescent-topped gold helmets, marched towards me in unison.


My pulse quickened. Odin didn’t forget.


The man who spoke did so with a flat affect, disconnected from the severity of his words. “Odin the Allfather requests your presence in the judgment hall.”


I was suddenly very aware of its name—it couldn’t be considered a throne room if people only went there to be punished. “Can you tell me what crime I have committed?” I asked, hoping the guard could prepare me for what was ahead.


“He requests your presence. If you’ve committed a crime, surely that is his reason, and you’ll receive swift and fair judgment.” The guard lowered his face to look me in the eye. Nothing in his expression gave away if he knew more.


I gulped but nodded and put my hands away. With two soldiers behind me, I trudged to my doom, praying Odin would be fair and not sentence me to an eternity in the dungeon—it wouldn’t be fair, but since when was life ever fair?


The hallway’s length and stairs multiplied. It felt like ages since I’d seen them last, though it had barely been a day. I replayed my interaction with Odin in my head and cursed myself for being so bold. No, downright stupid. Had I simply bitten my tongue or left when I saw the room was occupied, I wouldn’t be in this mess.


My fear turned to anger. Maybe it would be easier to face the king with an air of defiance. I am merely a pawn. My life is dispensable. Benevolent ruler, indeed. I repeated such things in my mind to prepare myself for defense—I had no tears to shed over imagined slights. The man was upset, and my attempt at comfort failed. I embarrassed him. Was that a crime?


As I closed in on the throne, a criminal dragging chains behind him was led down the dark stairs to the dungeons below. The jangle of manacles made his presence linger in the room long after he was gone.


I slowed my pace and was shoved by one of the guards, forcing me to take the final steps forward. My legs might as well have been hip-deep in thick mud for all that my strength and conviction were stolen.


Odin leaned heavily on his left arm as he sat in his throne and drummed his fingers. His good eye squinted to search the room and over me. He panted in his armor—it was obvious by how his shoulders shifted. Even though leather and metal covered him, it was a façade, and his physique couldn’t have been very impressive underneath.


I took a deep breath, commanded my shaking to stop, and stood as straight as possible. Perhaps if I showed strength before him now, he would see value in my life and presence in the palace. Making an example of me would’ve been a waste. Good, loyal laborers were hard to come by, weren’t they?


Odin’s stare scrutinized me. Undressed me. Peeled back my attitude. The drumming paused and he burned his gaze from my feet to my face. His careful words were spoken with equal precision. “Sigyn Eddasdottir, servant of the great hall, yes?”


I answered with a tip of my head, “Yes, Allfather.”


“It has come to my attention that you served Queen Frigga prior to her death.” He swallowed hard, pausing as though he had to sift through a barrel of phrases to find the right one. “Correct?”


“Yes, Allfather.”


“You now work in the kitchens. Is this also correct?”


Where is this going? I tried to hide my confusion by resisting the urge to cock my brow. “Yes, Allfather.”


“Well, then. So as not to waste your experience in these chambers, I’ve requested your assistance as my personal attendant. I trust this will be an improvement from the kitchen cleaning?” He resumed drumming his fingertips and pressed his lips together in a thin line.


I wasn’t called for punishment. You’re offering me...a higher station? There weren’t many options to weigh in the matter—such a thing was a blessing. If the king had some kind of subversive aim, it wasn’t detectable. Any servant would’ve been mad to refuse the opportunity.


I cleared my dry throat before answering him. “I accept, Allfather. What will you have me do?”


“Good,” he said, relaxing into his seat as if he was relieved not to argue over it. “Your first task is to clean and lock Frigga’s chambers, which were vandalized sometime during the night. After you are finished, you may come to me for further instruction.” Odin glanced over my body again, this time with a judgmental hum. “You are dismissed to change your attire and get to work. Proper clothing has been sent to your quarters.” He waved his left hand and closed his eye. Our appointment was over.


“Thank you, Allfather.” Heat flooded my cheeks when I turned to leave, now embarrassed by the state of my clothes and self. The guards that followed me to Odin’s throne fell out of form and leaned against the door to the dungeon. Why should they care about the reassignment of a servant? They sharply whispered in annoyance for having to fetch me from the kitchen in the first place.

***


A folded uniform waited for me on my bed, with a content and sleeping Tiwaz close by. The new outfit was similar to my existing gray robe, only this one had a sheen to the fabric I hadn’t seen on the other servants—not even on myself when I worked with Frigga. Reserved only for the king.


Removing my current garb—which itched and frayed all over—was a relief for my skin. I was pale from rarely seeing sun. I let my hair down to make it a bit neater; having not bathed since yesterday, the sensation of my long hair brushing against my back tickled. I pulled the locks up over my shoulders, lifting both arms high above in a stretch while pinning the coif and practicing my flexibility.


I reached for the new robe, soft and regal compared to the rags I’d just thrown away, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that a hidden voyeur watched me undress.