Mother's Tale
“Sigyn, you really have to hang your dresses as soon as you get them from the cleaners,” Sigyn’s mother scolded from the closet, pulling crumpled dresses from the floor and hanging them for her.
“I fold and hang laundry all day,” Sigyn complained from her place on her bed, “Forgive me if I’m a little too tired to do my own from time to time.” She stared at her bookshelf across the room. Her meager collection of books just managed to fill the top shelf, the second carried the trinkets she had collected through the years. A couple of glass animals the Queen had been nice enough to let her keep. Idunn’s earrings hanging from a soft pink ribbon Sigyn had fastened to the shelf above it. Her necklace hung there as well. There was a painting from when she was little, and the ceramic bowl from Theo. The last shelf held books borrowed from the royal library. Her mother hadn’t yet noticed and Sigyn prayed it remained that way. She had found if she ignored things and didn’t bring attention to them her mother didn’t always notice.
“I may forgive you, but your clothes will not,” her mother replied. “It takes much longer to iron them later.”
“I don’t mind ironing,” Sigyn grumbled.
Despite her half-hearted whining, it was a good day. It was Alfarblót, the first day of winter, meant to be celebrated in the comfort of your own home, and so the palace servants had the day off, or at the very least a lighter workload. She and her mother had stayed home all day, snacking on cheese and crackers, playing board games, discussing court gossip, and overall getting along quite well. It wasn’t like things with her mother were always bad, it just had been awhile since it had been this good. As far as her mother knew, Sigyn had been a good girl lately. Doing her work, no longer messing around with dangerous princes, and if she sometimes disappeared from the palace until late at night, her mother turned a blind eye. Theo had not been discussed since the last outburst. The tension that often plagued their interactions was gone.
“Mama,” Sigyn began, talking loud enough to be heard over the rustling in the closet. “What do you think of the princes?”
“Why do you ask? You may not consort with those boys, Sigyn, understood?”
She sighed, “yes, Mama, I know. I’m just wondering because all the other ladies talk about them all the time.”
“I know court gossip is a fun way to pass the time, but I encourage you to stay away from gossiping about our sovereigns.” More hangers hit the bar and Sigyn was forced to consider how many dresses she had left on the floor of her closet. Her mother had been in there a while, and it seemed she was still busy.
“Yes, Mama. What are you doing in there? There’s no way I have that many dresses.”
“I’m rearranging, Sigyn. Your closest is a mess,” her mother replied, “It’s a wonder you can find anything in here, and this is definitely too small now.” A pink dress came flying from behind the half-closed door.
Sigyn sat up straight. Her heart skipped a beat. She had been using the dress to cover the basket of letters she kept in the back of her closet. “Yeah, but it was my favorite dress when I was small enough for it. Maybe we can repurpose it?” She asked, hoping her voice remained steady and nonchalant. Hoping her mother didn’t look any closer.
“I’ll look into it.”
The sound of rustling cloth and hangers continued and Sigyn forced herself to lay back down and relax. “I’m getting hungry again. Can we get food?”
“I’m almost done in here,” her mother replied, “and then we can find dinner.”
“What if we took a break and finished later?” Sigyn suggested.
“We,” her mother scoffed, “You haven’t done a thing to help in here.”
“Hey! I cleaned the rest of my room.”
“What do you want to eat, Sigyn?”
She thought for a moment, “We could go see what they have for us in the kitchen, or we could take a trip to the city and eat somewhere out there. I’m in the mood for some pasta. We could find a pasta place. Thank goodness for Italians. Everyone wants to talk about how we’re the superior beings and we’re gods, but did we create pasta? No. Midgardians did, and not even the ones who worship us. Do you wanna get pasta?”
She waited for her mother’s response, expecting the usual about how they couldn’t afford dinner in the city, but the closet remained silent.
“Mama?”
“Sigyn, what is this?” Her mother’s voice was cold. She emerged from the closet, a piece of paper in her iron grip, her eyes glued to the page.
Sigyn felt her insides plummet. She sat up again. “A letter,” she practically whispered.
“Who is Theo?”
“The boy I met in the city a couple months ago.”
“And you’re with him when you don’t come home on time?” There was a dangerous edge to this line of questioning. Sigyn was balancing on a blade.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“And what do you do when you’re with this boy?”
“Just have fun. Walk around, get dinner, go to art galleries-”
“You don’t touch each other?” Her mother accused, eyes flashing. “This is pure fiction?” She shook the letter crumpled in her fist. It must have been one of the dirty ones.
“Mostly, Mama,” Sigyn pleaded, heart racing with fear. “He just wants to make me turn red. We haven’t done anything, I promise!” It was a lie. Theo was so many of her firsts, but he wasn’t the first. She had kept that to herself, and that was the important bit, right?
Her mother’s magic attacked, latching onto Sigyn’s mind and forcing entry. Sigyn shoved all her thoughts and memories of Theo one way and her mother’s consciousness the other with all her strength. For the first time, she was thankful for Loki’s torment. She pushed her mother from her mind.
“You’re not allowed to see him anymore,” Ljot declared, recovering quickly from her apparent shock at her daughter’s strength.
“You can’t do that!” Sigyn cried, tears welling in her eyes. She couldn’t go back to life without him. She couldn’t go back to life secured within this palace, limited by the golden walls. A golden cage. Wasn’t it her mother that had told her to get out? Well she had found a way out. She wanted more than a boy, but she wanted the boy too.
“Yes I can, you are my daughter. Under my roof, you follow my rules.”
“It’s not your roof!”
Her mother’s hand gripped her face, nails biting into her cheeks, dragging her closer, “You will not see this boy! Do you understand me? You will not leave this palace!”
Sigyn ripped herself out of her mother’s hold, feeling her skin tear in the process. Her face was hot, she couldn’t see through the water in her eyes and her throat burned with the effort of keeping the tears at bay. “Do you expect me to be alone forever?” she screamed, “I want a life!”
“This is not a life!” Ljot shouted ripping the letter to shreds.
Sigyn sobbed, dropping to the floor to gather the pieces. She rose, shaking in her fury, “It could be! It’s more than you have!”
The hit landed before she could prepare herself. A yelp of pain escaped her throat and she staggered back, sheltering herself with her arms.
“It’s exactly what I have! Do you think I didn’t have a ‘Theo’? I had a boy who made me turn red. You have a father, Sigyn. It takes two to make a child.”
Sigyn blinked back her tears, arms lowering. This was the first time she had ever heard anything about her father.
“You look so much like him, but you have my life. I don’t want you to have my life.” There were tears in her mother’s dark eyes, one of the only features they shared. “If you had been a boy things might have been different for you.”
“Who is my father, mother?” Sigyn asked, begging for all of this to make sense somehow.
Ljot took a deep breath, a deep well of sadness and hurt opened in her expression. She took a seat on the edge of the bed. Sigyn remained standing warily across the room.
“The queen took me in after an ‘accident’.” She said the word bitterly. “I used to be the maidservant for a noblewoman in a manor, not too far from here. I fell in love with her son. He was gorgeous and witty, and spoiled me with gifts and attention. I thought he loved me back, so I didn’t object when he became more forward, a hand on my elbow or my waist, and then one day he kissed me. I know how magical it seems, Sigyn, to be in love.
“But one day, he asked for too much, and I said no. Well, we are servants.” Ljot smiled at her daughter. “And he was a lord. I was not allowed to say no to him, and he would not tolerate it. And so he took me forcibly. He had me every night. Every night and whenever he felt like it. Whenever it pleased him and whenever I offended him. It was a punishment and a privilege, according to him. My lady knew and never did a thing. The other servants knew, but what could they do? And then I got pregnant, and I was the offending party. I was the one who did wrong.”
Sigyn felt sick. She had never known. “I’m sorry Mama,” she whispered. Everything did make sense now, in an awful way. In a way that made her wish it didn’t.
Ljot continued, “Lucky for me, my Lady was good friends with the Queen, and she told the Queen what had happened. How she was kicking me out three months pregnant and penniless. Our Queen offered to take me instead. She would even pay for me. So I wound up here. I received excellent care to put me in crippling debt, and then I had you.”
Ljot blinked away her tears and held out her hands for her daughter. Sigyn stepped forward and allowed her mother to clasp their hands together. “I love you so much, Sigyn,” she said, “You are the best thing I could have hoped to come out of all of that. You are a beautiful, smart, strong girl. I’m proud to call you my daughter. I want more for you than what I got. I don’t want you to be alone, but I don’t want anyone to hurt you. I don’t know what I would do if someone touched you.”
Sigyn squeezed her mother’s hands. “Theo’s a good man, Mama,” she promised, “He doesn’t lie or cheat, and he would never hurt me.”
Her mother squeezed back. “I hope so, Sigyn. Promise me you’ll be careful. There are no consequences for men like that.”
“I’ll be careful. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, sweet girl. I’m sorry.”
“I love you. Mama,” Sigyn whispered.
Her mother smiled sadly, “Let’s get some pasta.”