Story Teller
“Once upon a time, the frost giants roamed more than just the frozen wastelands of Jotunheim. Once upon a time they could be found anywhere, hiding beneath the beds of children to steal them away in their sleep.”
Sigyn gasped fearfully, eyes wide as her mother illustrated the story with a brush of blue paint. She painted large swooping arcs that somehow came together in the horrifying form of the monsters she brought to life. When she told stories, her mind became vibrant with swirling patterns and paint splatters in all different colors.
“Once upon a time they still possessed the casket, the source of their power, and their ice reached even the farthest of the nine realms. Once upon a time they were unstoppable. The only hope for salvation took form as a living flame. An eternal flame.”
Orange now became the tongues of fire in a silver brazier.
“Laufey was merciless in his frozen rule, so the king of Asgard sent his best warrior, Sigyn, out in search of this flame. She was sent to do the impossible. No one had seen or heard of the fire in years, it was only a fairytale told to children to give them hope for a better tomorrow. But Sigyn was determined to find it and make that tomorrow today. So she set off. She wandered over cliffs and tundras, sailed oceans and even the skies.”
Sigyn gazed in wonder at the marvels her mother painted. Blizzards, crashing waves, steep mountains, and spiraling galaxies. A small girl stood at the prow of a boat, sailing through the stars. They scattered in her wake.
“She was the first to use the rainbow bridge. The first brave enough to travel between worlds and risk the icy wrath of Laufey. She was the first to taste stardust and touch the clouds. She found the eternal flame at the heart of a dying star. She scooped it up and carried it home trapped inside her lantern. As she traveled back she told it stories and sang it songs to feed the fire and keep it from winking out. An eternal flame needs eternal fuel, and stories are forever.”
Sigyn could have sworn she tasted the stars and felt the clouds and heard the crackling of fire as it devoured her mother’s tale. She snuggled closer to her mother’s side and wished the story would never end, because maybe it was forever, but her mother wasn’t. Her mother would put away her paints and tie back up her hair and go back to work, all pinned up in finery at the Queen’s side. Maybe she was learning magic, but she was losing it too. One day she would tell her last story and paint her last picture. One day Sigyn would have to tell her own, but stories were less fun when you had no one to share them with.
“Sigyn arrived back in Asgard to find it frozen over. Nothing moved. No one was there. No one alive at least. They were all statues. Laufey’s ice was forever. That’s what Sigyn had always been told. That’s what everyone had accepted as fact, but she had also been told that the eternal flame was a fairytale, so maybe not all truths were true. She held out hope amidst her grief. She had hope that the flame she had traveled the stars to find could heal the worlds. She held out hope as her own eternal light against the waves of darkness that threatened to drown her. She could not give in, she was the only one who could save them. She was the only one left.
“She carried the fire to the heart of Asgard and lit the kingdom’s center. She sang it songs of love, and grief, and anger and it grew. The heat spread throughout and Laufey’s ice began to melt. Slowly the people began to stir and Asgard came back to life. The Flame acted as a barrier as the King and his warriors regained their strength. When they were strong enough, Sigyn led them in a charge against the frost giants. She carried a great sword forged in the eternal fire. The battle was long and hard, but Asgard triumphed and pushed the frost giants back to their home world. All that was left to do was to unfreeze the rest of the nine realms. The people told the flame their own stories and sang it their own songs and slowly but surely, its warmth began to spread outside of Asgard’s borders.
“Sigyn was celebrated as a hero. A hero who never lost hope and always believed. A hero who was loyal to her home and her people and carried them inside her heart. She was given a necklace with a glass pendant containing one lick of the fire she loved so much. When the frost giants tried to take over again, she met them on the battlefield, her sword shining with light eternal. She was forever cemented into the hearts of her people and to this day she is remembered. Sigyn, story teller, fire bringer.”
Sigyn stared up at the mural her mother had painted above them. The story was still there, recorded in paint and colors. It would be there even when her mother was not. Even when her mother hit her and scolded her, the story would be there. A perfectly captured moment of peace and happiness.
“I love you, Sigyn,” her mother whispered. Paint streaked her face and hands.
“I love you Mama.”
They rolled out from under the bed, dragging the paints with them. Her mother smiled sadly at her. Sigyn knew the drill. She closed the cans and took the brushes to wash while her mother shut away the paints. Then she would wash herself off and put herself back in the role of lady in waiting. She didn’t smile in her fine dresses and pretty jewels. The court didn’t make her happy, not the way her art did. Sigyn didn’t understand why she went back, why her mother couldn’t stay with her and tell stories all day. Whenever she asked, her mother gave her that sad smile, told her to be good, reminded her of the rules, and left.
That’s what she did now. She left to see the Queen. It was late and Sigyn was left at home with instructions to put herself to sleep. The story dried underneath her bed and as soon as the door shut in the sitting room, as soon as her mother was gone, Sigyn grabbed her pillows and blankets and rolled back into the comforting dark to stare at her mother’s painting. She recited the story to herself, recreating her mother’s voice and tracing the lines with her eyes so that she didn’t smear it with her fingers. Different parts of the underneath displayed different stories. princesses, warriors, frost giants, elves. She had a whole library under her bed, but Sigyn wanted her mother. Her mother carried a whole library in her head.