|To the Ends of Paradise
Author: Jolis Mots PM
"I know what I want. I am not some little girl with flitting fantasies and dreams of flowers and dresses. I want Loki. I love him. And he loves me. There is nothing else more than that and there is nothing else after it." Sent to Asgard to learn to be the kind of princess Vanaheim needs, Sigyn not only grows into her own, but also grows on a certain Asgardian prince. Loki/Sigyn.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Drama - Loki - Chapters: 6 - Words: 20,492 - Reviews: 187 - Favs: 34 - Follows: 64 - Updated: 07-21-12 - Published: 05-22-12 - id: 8139750
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
(A/N): Set in Movieverse, pre-Thor. Mixed the comic with the mythology to fit the story I'm writing.
Though most people depict Sigyn a certain way, I would think that a girl who fell in love with Loki had a lot more facets than people gave her credit for. And with the depth the movies have brought to his character, I wanted to write a fanfic where it gave just as much to her. Also, this is the prologue, so if you have any questions, just know that the chapters will be more detailed :)
"Do you think humans still worship us in Midgard? They probably haven't the slightest idea that Vanaheim is actually quite boring. Or that Odin isn't as wise as they say...I should think Loki's much more respected down there than up here. I hope they write about how brilliant he is and how much I love him. How––above all––I have always loved him. I hope even the mortals of Midgard know that."
Asgard is grander than all the descriptions in all the books Sigyn has ever read. Nowhere in the text did it accurately describe the lushness of the greenery, the sparkling skies, the color spectrum of the Bifrost. The palace here was not odd and austere like back in Vanaheim, but is a massive structure of gold and brass that stand together like the pipes of an organ. Everything looked so perfect that it was strange. If she stared at something too long it suddenly felt out of place and foreign. Still, it far outweighed in aesthetic delight compared to her home where she spent endless years by the windowsill––bored of Vanaheim, bored of its heat, bored of herself...
She was well aware what they thought of her there. The youngest of King Iwaldi's children, always too busy with books, too headstrong to fit in. Here, as her mother hoped, she would learn to conduct herself in a more lady-like manner. To break out of this shell she had built around her.
To blossom, she had told her.
Blossom, Sigyn thought, as if I wither as quickly as a rose.
That was putting it mildly. A hunch told her that in all those words, what her parents meant to say that they hoped sending her a way would teach her a thing or two about propriety. And what better place than the most powerful realm in all the World Tree?
Nervously fiddling with the skirt of her dress, she takes a deep breath as the high doors open. Cerulean colored, the dress she wears trails longer in the back while the strapless top portion hugged her form from her chest to her midsection, accentuated with intricate gold designs. A personal favorite of hers that she had been saving for the right occasion. Being introduced to Asgardian court seemed fitting enough.
And while all the unfamiliar faces stand before her, her mind is suddenly reeling back to Vanaheim:
First, she's standing in the throne room in front of her father, Mother sitting next to him. They're telling her the reasons she is being sent away, the reasons she must grow up.
Next, she's in her own quarters, rereading all the books she was never supposed to read, glancing at all the pieces of her childhood that she cannot bring.
Then her mind jumps to the moment she's in the courtyard with Theoric (whom she'd hardly been able to see due to the political conflicts between their regions of Vanaheim). He's handsome as ever, all blond locks of hair and brown eyes. Maidens watch from afar in their little flocks, blushing whenever he glances at them. Theoric is brave and kind, and yet...there's something about him that Sigyn finds all-together boring. What Father and Mother had told her earlier replays in her head and she wonders if growing up will make her love Theoric more.
And all too soon, she is shoved back into the present––back in the ballroom in Asgard where warriors and lords and ladies are surrounding a wide space reserved for the guests being introduced, the announcer's voice echoing their names. Odin, Frigga, and their two sons stand at the head of the room while the newcomers walk up to them one by one, their names and titles being announced as they bow.
Right foot, left foot, steady, steady, back straight, chin high...That's it. A proper princess. Even all the way in Asgard, her mother's words are able to dictate her actions.
Others' gazes feel glued to her skin––stuck––as if she would never be able to be rid of their judgement. Trying her best to keep her poise, she is momentarily (but not noticeably) distracted by the horned helmet that sits on the younger Prince of Asgard's head, filling her with an entirely different kind of nervousness.
His eyes are on her. She can feel it more than anything else in the room; the same icy eyes that seem to change from blue to green to blue, again. The dark-green of his cape contrasts that glorious red of his brother's in the same way that the silver wings on Thor's head is different from the overwhelming horns of Loki's helmet.
Sigyn can recall with precision the first time she saw Loki. Years ago. She was still a child, in every sense of the word––small, meek, and all-too curious. She remembers that morning when Mother told her to wake early and get ready, that she had to wear her finest little dress and brush her unruly chestnut-colored hair, how she had to stand still at the front of the palace, smallest of all the Vanir children, and wait for the Aesir to arrive and be welcomed.
There were two princes, teenagers by Midgard standards. The strong, lion-like one and the slighter, dark-haired one. Even then, at the age of six, she could not take her eyes off the latter. Later, she had followed him to the garden when the officials sat in the council room, so fascinated with him in a way that she could not describe. Her interest in the prince grew when she watched as he plucked a flower from a bush, watching how it changed colors as it sat on his palm. She even remembers how he ended up enchanting it to become a butterfly and gave it to her as a gift.
The next time she saw him, she was fourteen. Instead of rushing down with everyone else and greeting the visitors properly, she had climbed a tree, sitting close enough to see the Aesir arrive and hear the formalities exchanged.
Loki was much older now, a man, truly a Prince of Asgard, though his hair was still the same raven-black from her childhood memories. On his head, he wore that infernal helmet with the overwhelming horns. By her age, she thought seeing him again would make her realize how silly she was as a child to have harbored a crush on him. Although, when she found him in the library an hour later and they spoke for hours about studies, books, and magic, Sigyn realized she liked him more than ever.
Now, at seventeen, was the third moment. And she can't help but smile a little when she catches his eyes go wide at the sight of her, and wider still as she takes a proper bow before the royal family, her title ringing through the massive room.
"Presenting Princess Sigyn Iwaldisdottir of the Vanir court, Goddess of Constancy."
(A/N): But wait, isn't Loki the God of Chaos? :P And don't worry about the beginning quote. Let it flow~
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AND WASN'T THE AVENGERS OUTSTANDING? you know it was.