His Valkyrie

It all started with a broken heart.

No. Actually, it had started with a stolen heart, back when they were kids.

The moment she had seen Prince Loki, she had known her heart belonged to him. At the time, she had been so young and foolish. Just a silly little girl with a silly crush on a handsome prince.

His mother, Queen Frigga, had come to Vanaheim every year to talk with her own mother about magic and Seidr. Though Sigyn also studied those arts, she had never been invited to join the conversation. Queen Freya had been pushing her more glamorous, more beautiful, more interesting daughters into the Princes arms. Until now, it had failed. Prince Thor had very politely rejected her sisters, and Prince Loki did not seem to interest any of them.

Why? Sigyn could not comprehend their coldness towards the youngest Odinson. Was he not as charming and handsome as his more famous brother? Was he not respectful towards his mother and one of the most powerful mages in all of Yggdrasil?

The more she learned about him, the more fascinated she became. She wanted to talk to him, whether it was about magic, or about his other interests. She would drown into his sapphire eyes and be happy for the rest of her days.

Yet, Freya had forbidden it. Her mother could be sometimes rather harsh, but she was also wise and fair. Most of all, she wanted to spare Sigyn from a broken heart. What was the saying again? Ah yes “Never meet your heroes”. Well, in this precise case, it would have been “Never meet the man you absolutely adore, as you do not match his tastes”.

Her friend Ratatoskr had told her of Loki’s numerous love affairs. None of them seemed to last long, and were tumultuous to say the least, however, they seemed to have one common point. All of his lovers were beautiful. Sigyn looked at herself in a mirror and sighed in defeat. Even if her mother were to introduce them, her Prince would not even look in her direction. She would be invisible to him.

Yes, her mother was right. Better lose herself in her fantasies and dreams where Loki loved her back, than face the terrible truth of his total disinterest, or worse his despise towards her.

And so, following her mother’s orders, she avoided him at best she could, while still allowing herself to take some news of his heath, and of course, admire him from afar. How could she not? How could one resist such a wonderful sight?

Loki owned her heart and occupied her thoughts day and night. Her love for him, though hopeless, consumed her completely. As she knew her feelings would never be requited, she busied herself, learning Seidr and training with her sisters as one of the Valkyries.

Some badly-informed people complained that only the Freyadottir had the right to join their ranks, but this was only a rumour. Not all of her sisters had followed their mother’s path, and quite a few of the sacred warriors were actually from noble Vanir families – not at all related to Njord’s royal line. Actually, her friend Svafa was a ropemaker’s daughter and there was also Irpa who was from Nidavellir, and a cousin to her father’s apprentice.

Sigyn supposed some people were just jealous, as they had not been chosen. Well, too bad for them, but this was not her problem.

She wondered, however, if they would not have been better for the position than she was. To Sigyn, this career had been her mother’s choice and she had only agreed to become a Valkyrie to please her, and to avoid drowning in her sorrow. Maybe those people had an actual taste for the fighting and did not mind the killing or the blood raining down on them, and the sounds of people dying on the battlefield, or the smell of their rotting flesh.

If she were honest, she would admit she hated it. But her confession would have upset her mother. So she kept her mouth closed and obeyed the orders, mounting her winged wolf, Hylli, and tried to be brave and endure the chaos.

To the battle, she much preferred making weapons, spending hours in her forge, smithing the day away, hoping her work would make her father and brothers proud. As she worked the metal, she often let her imagination wonder, daydreaming of her Prince’s beautiful eyes and how wonderful his hands would feel against her naked skin.

All silly dreams, of course… until they were not.

Well, Loki would never desire her in such an intimate manner. He would never hold her in his arms, caress softly her fiery hair or grant her a kiss. However, the Norns decided to be generous with her for once. Had they taken pity on her, or rather had they had enough of her foolish pining? Sigyn could not tell. Still, that day had been much better than any of her childish fantasies.

Since Glad-of-War had left Vanaheim defenseless after the Vanir wars, many Marauders had tried conquering her grandfather’s realm, attacking their borders and ravaging the bygdes nearby, killing many innocent villagers and destroying their crops.

Her uncle Feyr had provided them with food from Alfheim so they would not starve. Yet, with the repeated attacks, his efforts seemed in vain. Every time, the Marauders would burn the Elves’ precious wheat, leaving the Vanir without any food. Sigyn and her Valkyrie friends would intervene and hunt down the villains. However, some help would have been more than welcome.

For once, Odin showed himself gracious enough and sent them his sons and their friends to eradicate the pest. Or they might have been in theory, had they been up to the task and worthy of their glorious reputation.

Sigyn sighted and bit her tongue. She did not want to sound ungrateful. Of course, they needed their assistance – any assistance, in truth. The Valkyries were 13, and the Marauders were many. Since Glad of War had forbidden the Vanirs to have an army and soldiers, they were their people’s only hope.

When they had seen the Odinsons, Lady Sif and the Warriors 3 joining the fight, everyone had cheered, and Sigyn, catching sight of her beloved, had barely been able to withhold her blush. Yet, as Thor started destroying the langhus and the grubehus, leaving the villagers homeless, the Valkyries soon realized they would have now not only to defend the Vanirs against their assailants, but also protect them from Thor’s ferocious zeal. His own friends seemed perfectly aware of this, as Hogunn, a Vanir citizen self-exiled to Asgard, used his shield to protect a child, as some rocks flew in their direction after Mjöllnir destroyed a few houses.

While she was tending to the wounded, Sigyn saw one of the Marauders attacking her Prince, their weapon ready to send him to Valhalla. Oh she would never let them take him from her.

Many people on Midgard called the Valkyries the Messengers of Death, but Sigyn refused that title. She was there to save people and bring them victory. Most of all, her duty was to make sure everyone would go home to their family at the end of the battle.

Well, maybe not the Marauders. Those could die screaming for all she cared.

But her prince? No. He had to live and be happy, surrounded by his loved ones. Her heart bled as she knew she would never be one of them, he would never keep her close, regard her as a precious friend. Yet, in the end, her selfish desires did not matter. As long as Loki was safe, she would be satisfied.

Only listening to the beatings of her heart, she flew to him, grabbing him by the shoulders, rising him from the ground, saving him from the monster’s fatal blow. He weighed lighter than a feather. Were they not feeding him properly in Odin’s hall? She had heard that Asgard’s king refused to eat any food and only drank mead. Was it also the case of his sons?

Had he been married to her, she would have baked him many delicious pies and roasted the most succulent meats. He would not have left their table before he had had his fill. She would have fussed over him, spoiled him rotten, loved him to madness.

Maybe it was a good thing he would never love her. She would have nagged him with her sickening sweetness and stifling passion until he could not stand the sight of her anymore. He would have ended up hating the mere mention of her name. Better him ignoring her existence than his loathing.

Yet, here he was, in her arms. It took her all the strength of Yggdrasil not to bring him closer. She was there to save him, not to savor the warmth of his body under her greedy hands. In her dreams, he would have reached for her, seeking her lips, leaving her breathless under his burning kisses. But alas, this was the real world. And in this cold, lonely world, Loki did not desire Sigyn. What a cruel fate, indeed.

He looked at her in a strange manner as she landed him safely on the ground. He stared at her, most likely surprised to see such a short and chubby Valkyrie. Did she regret her second piece of cake from this morning? Well, of course not. It had been delicious. Still, it pained her to be such a disappointment to her Prince. He had probably imagined a daughter of Freya to be beautiful, flawless, as glamourous and deadly as her mother.

All these fancy things, she was not, and if this was what Loki Odinson was after, it would be wise of her to completely forget about him. She would never be his type. He was the owner of her heart, but she was certainly not the girl of his dreams. She had to accept it and move on.

Yet, she could not. The more she was trying to be reasonable, the more he kept haunting her every thoughts. She longed for him, craved for him. She had barely hold him in her arms to save his life, and now she could not live a moment longer without him in her life.

But how? The question was eating her alive. She could not hope for his love. He could have married her as a political match, but Queen Frigga had been adamant she wanted love matches for her sons. A wonderful idea, for sure. Unfortunately, this doomed Sigyn’s happy ending.

If she could not be his wife or his lover, could she be his friend? Oh she would have been perfectly satisfied with his friendship. Everyone – including people who did not like him – conceded him a quick mind and brilliant wit. It would be such pleasure to speak to him every day. They seemed to share many common interests after all, magic among others.

The next time the Odinsons visited Vanaheim with their mother, Sigyn decided to try and befriend her handsome Prince. She felt nervous, her heart racing in her chest and her throat tightening up. Yet, this was not the moment to play coy or shy or be a coward. Was she not a Valkyrie? Was her mother not the Goddess of War?

She had been on a battlefield before she could walk. Surely, she could talk to Loki, as impressive as he was. Besides, this was her only possible option. Being his friend was the best she could hope for, and this would be enough. This would have to be enough.

And so, there she was, marching up to him with her best smile, greeting him with her less clumsy curtsey.

“We meet again officially, your highness”, she said, “I am so pleased to see you again. My name is Sigyn Iwaldidottir. It’s an honor to make your acquaintance”

She had rehearsed her compliment again and again in front of a mirror, not to sound too formal or too bold. A perfect mix of respect and friendliness. Amiable, but not inappropriate. Her voice had not trembled, her body had stayed in control. She had not even blushed, though she feared her smiled had been too wide and her eyes might have sparkled a little too much at the sight of the man she adored.

At Loki’s reaction, though, Sigyn’s heart dropped. He clenched his teeth, barely nodded at her, before running very far away from her.

Tears started stinging her eyes before running down her cheeks.

Oh. He disliked her that much, eh? The mere sight of her was so unbearable to him he had to flee?

She would have called him cruel, but she supposed it was not his fault. Love and hate were uncontrollable feelings, and if no one could blame her for loving him, she guessed she could not criticize him for loathing her.

Still, what had she done to deserve such animosity? She did not know. However, as Loki’s face always had the same ill-at-ease, tense, on edge expression whenever she was around, Sigyn eventually accepted the truth. He did not like her and never would.

Then, something both terrible and wonderful happened. Terrible, as the One-Eyed king of Asgard, Loki’s father, fell into Odin sleep. Wonderful because beating all odds, and to everyone (but her)’s surprise, Loki became King.

Oh wondrous, miraculous, blessed day!

Her mother and her uncles remained wary of him, debating if they should present him their homages, as it was their duty as lieges lords of Yggdrasil, or wait and see the turn of events. All had expected Thor to inherit their father’s title, but the Thunderer had been exiled. Another surprise for everyone.

Her mother was looking at her now with an interest she had hardly ever shown her.

“It seems your pick was the right one in the end”, Queen Freya conceded, “Maybe I could give him your hand in marriage. It would certainly help Vanaheim’s cause”

At these words, Sigyn’s heart beamed before dropping from its highest peak. Oh what would she have given to be his bride, to be able to love him and admire him every day. But Loki hated her, did he not? If her mother was to offer her hand to him, what would he do? Would he reject her? Laugh at such a ridiculous proposal? Or would he accept out of political duty, bonding them in a loveless union?

“I have a better idea, Mother”, Sigyn said, faking a polite smile to hide her tears, “How about I became his guard? You said it yourself time and time again: I am not pretty enough to catch an Odinson’s eye. But as a Valkyrie, he could regard me as a valuable asset”

Her mother nodded in agreement, letting her leave for Asgard, probably thinking this would make a perfect opportunity to seduce its new king. As if there had been any chance of that ever happening. Not only did Loki find her company unbearable, but she had never been the femme fatale type. When other Valkyries were elegant swans, she was a cute little puffin, flapping her wings against the wind, enjoying a cozy sunny morning on a beach.

Loki most likely did not even notice puffins , unless there were roasted to his liking. Sigyn shivered at the thought. She loved him, but not enough to let him eat her. She had her limits. Yet, if one day, some villain dare attacking her king and she fell protecting him, then she would die happy. She would spend the rest of her days saving her beloved until her last breath. Now this was a life worth living.

To her surprise, he accepted her request with grace, though not much enthusiasm. What had she expected? That he would jump extatically and shed tears of joy? Of course not. He hated her, she remembered. A smile or a kind word would have been nice, she supposed, but she knew better. At least, he had not run away from her in utter disgust this time and had granted her the privilege of standing by his side.

From then on, she became his shadow, always keeping a respectful distance while protecting him, ready to pounce on any potential threat.

The more she saw of Lady Sif and the Warriors 3, the more she despised them. Loki was their friend. He was their king. Yet, they showed no friendship or loyalty towards him when he clearly needed them the most. She wanted to scream at them, express her anger against their betrayal. Loki though remained calm and so very dignified , and Sigyn felt her love for him blossom once again. How could anyone think Thor was the better pick for a king? Loki was the obvious choice. Thor might have been a ferocious warrior and she was sure he had a good heart, but his brother had the intelligence and the self-control such a glorious burden required. She only hoped she would be able to help him and shield him from any danger.

Norns, had she been wrong.

Though she was Loki’s shadow, following him everywhere, her duties stopped at the door of his rooms. Once Mani took over Sol, Loki would retire for the night, leaving Sigyn guarding his door. Some ladies at the court sneered at her, snickering that she was Loki’s bitch, serving him night and day.

Sigyn blushed at the thought, ashamed that her wished were so obvious, though hopefully not to her king – or he would have most likely sent her away.

That night had been no different from the others. She had spent the day with him. He had seemed preoccupied, but not more than usual, and it was no surprise that he would be, with a potential war with Jotunheim on the brink.

She wished she could have said anything, done anything to appease his fears, but she knew better. She was his guard, not his advisor or his wife. Her duty was to protect him, not to speak to him or give her opinion. Her words, though well-intended, would not have been welcomed. So she bit her tongue, retained herself from saying anything, though she longed to take him in her arms and tell him how much she loved and admired him.

“Know your place”

Her mother’s words still burned in her mind. She hated them, but she knew Freya had been right. She did not want Loki to loathe her even more than he already did and exile her from Asgard.

So there she was, her back to his door, standing as tall as a half-Dwarf maiden could, fighting sleep and her painful broken heart, when she heard a scream.

“Prince Loki is fighting Prince Thor on the bridge!”, one Einherjar said to a dumbfounded Sigyn.

Prince Loki? No, King Loki. That disrespect was unacceptable! But wait. He was on the bridge? How was it possible? He had gone into his rooms for the night. How could he be outside? And what of Prince Thor? Had he not been exiled on Midgard? Nothing made sense anymore. She had to make sure. Her instincts told her to go to the bridge, but what if it was a trap? What if her king’s enemies wanted her to desert her duty and leave his side so they could murder him in his sleep? She would never forgive herself then. Politely, she knocked on Loki’s door. No answer. She entered, calling his name… but only silence answered her.

Oh. He had tricked her…. And now he was in trouble.

As she ran, she blamed her foolishness. He hated her so much he would not trust her even with his own safety? How was she supposed to do her job if he wandered off in the night? She should have been defending him against his brother’s attacks. Instead, because he could not stand her presence, he had put himself in danger. What would she do if he was hurt or killed? No, her king would not be defeated. She would insure his Victory… or what was the reason for her entire existence?

And yet, she had failed him.

When she arrived on the bridge, Loki was merely nothing but a little point far away, unreachable, lost to her. He had jumped or maybe he was pushed, she could not say. She threw at Odin her most accusatory look, but the old goat held his ground, as if he had nothing to reproach himself in this tragic affair.

Sigyn could not think anymore. Her mind was a mess, burdened under the weight of her own guilt. She still could see him at times, haunting her dreams, screaming for her. Oh did his ghost wanted her help now? Well, if she could she would help him, journey to Helheim itself.

But when she reached the cold realm’s gate, its guardian told her Loki had not crossed their border. He was not in Valhalla either.

Where had he go? Had he not die? That was fantastic news! She could still save him then!

There were rumours. Terrible rumours, stupid rumours… but the more Sigyn thought about them, the more they made sense. People were whispering that Loki had never been Odin’s son, but Laufey’s. It would have explained Loki’s differences with his family, and his father’s unfair treatment. If he had never been truly the King’s son, but a pawn Glad-of-War had stolen for political gain, then Loki was a victim of Odin’s lies and manipulation. The Allfather was a villain through and through.

Yet, no one called out the Terrible. No one dared to say anything.

Quite the opposite, Odin was still seen as a wise leader and the undisputed master of the Golden Realm.

Loki, on the other hand, was depicted as an untrustworthy monster and the God of Evil.

Lies. More lies. Sigyn knew Loki as she had stood by his side. He was no monster. He had just been lost, blinded by his own grief and Odin’s deceit. Her King had been raised believing Jotuns were barbarians and evil creatures to be mercilessly slayed. Of course he would go crazy with the revelation he was one of them. Who would not?

With Loki’s fall, she had been cast aside and sent home to her mother. Freya had looked at her coldly and with disgust. She had always hated Jotuns after all, and with the rumours saying she had shared Loki’s bed, her mother probably feared she would be pregnant with his child.

No chance of that happening when her king had clearly disliked her from day one. Still, Freya had her thoroughly inspected, just to “make sure”, and was happily surprised to find her a maiden still.

“Evil, but not so to seduce you into doing his bidding”, she had declared to Sigyn’s dismay.

Oh there would have been no need of seducing – though it would have been nice, for sure. Even with no sweet reward, Sigyn would have still done her best to serve and protect him. Alas, he never let her get too close, not even close enough to save his life.

When Loki turned up in chains guarded by his brother, Sigyn wanted nothing but help him escape. She prepared the perfect plan, paid trolls that would distract the guards while they ran outside of Asgard’s gates.

But her mother was always well informed, and stopped her before she could even leave Sessrumnir.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Freya’s voice was as terrible as Odin’s and could freeze your blood in your veins, or at least, it always had this effect on Sigyn. Gathering up all her bravery, the maiden turned towards her mother with a pleading look in her eyes.

“Mom, please”, she cried, “He needs my help”

“Your help?”, Freya sneered, “Didn’t you tell me yourself that he did not want your help? Or anything to do with you?”

Sigyn barely restrained herself from sobbing. She was right. Even if she went to him and told him of her plan, he would never accept to follow her. After all, had he not jumped from the Bifrost rather than accept her protection?

She sighed, utterly defeated. At least he was alive. One day soon, Odin and Thor would need him and he would win their favor again. These days were dark for her king, but surely, as long as he was alive, the Sun would shine on him again.

As long as he was alive… but then he died. Again.

Skalds sang of his heroic death, and people finally understood what a great hero he had been all along.

Sigyn could have slapped some sense into them for not figuring that earlier. Her heart was heavy in her chest so much she could not breathe at times. Her mother did not seem to understand or care for her grieving and so she moved away from Vanaheim to Nidavellir, focusing on her work in her father’s forge.

Every evening, after her long day, she came home, prepared herself a light meal, took a bath, and cried herself to sleep. Though her misery was great, she strangely never felt alone. It was as if someone was there with her, holding her, soothing her, kissing her pain away in the dark of the night.

Had he loved her as she loved him, he would still be alive, his body warm and pressed against her. He would be sleeping by her side, his strong arms wrapped around her waist, happy and content, just like he was in her dreams.

In her sleep, Sigyn could be with the one she loved and so she slept as much as she could. That evening was not different from the others, though oddly enough, her dreams had never felt so real.

A man was there with her, holding her tight, and she knew deep in her heart this was Loki. She cooed and sighed in happiness before turning around, kissing him with all the passion she had repressed for all these centuries. Her lover smiled and bit her bottom lip, sliding his tongue inside her mouth while his hands caressed her breasts.

“Oh Loki”, she moaned, “My love”

“My Sweet Sigyn”, he whispered, his voice burning with desire as his fingers explored her most intimate places. She gasped and cried out, her vision blurry. His touch made her head spin, her heart singing with joy in her chest.

Though at the peak of happiness, one thing troubled her. How could her imagination be so good all of a sudden? She had never shared Loki’s bed, and yet, this felt so real.

Too real.

In a moment of realization, she pushed her lover away to truly look at him. Oh he was a vision from Valhalla indeed with his long dark locks cascading down on his shoulders, his blue eyes shining with a fiery lust. Already she could feel his member hard between her legs. She wanted to say something, but words were impossible to find when his mouth was devouring her breasts.

The sharp pain she felt at the loss of her maidenhead confirmed what she already knew. This was definitely not a dream.

This was no Haugbui or Draugr either. And did he not hate her?

What in Valhalla was going on?