To Love a Trickster (Loki and Sigyn)

Chapter Two

~ Sigyn's POV~

Dear Sigyn,

I wasn't sure what you wanted me to include in this letter, so I thought I'd just tell you what I've been doing since we last met.

I finished my schooling, but unlike Thor I don't have a direct path to become a King, or Ruler. My Mother told me to explore, so I did. I help the healers, and the tutors, and I've been using the ancient texts to continue my private education. I have some magic, and I am learning to control it.

I learnt a technique, a trick, to create flowering flames of colour. I'd like to show you one day, if you would let me.

I have enclosed a book I think you might like. It follows the adventures of a young woman, who leaves her home in search of treasure. I have read it many times, and she reminds me of you. I hope you love it as much as I do.

The seasons are changing in the gardens - I work in those too - and there are new animals who are creating a home in the flowerbeds. They are small creatures, but pure and gentle. Maybe I could show you these too.

I don't think I expressed my sorrows when you told me of your loss. I do not have the best relationship with my Father, and I have no way to understand how you must feel. Please know, that I am truly sorry for your loss, and that I willingly volunteer my support in any way I can provide it.

I treasure this friendship,

Yours, Loki

I turned the crinkled paper over in my hands, the inked words like a warm blanket around my shoulders. The small book was wrapped in brown paper and tied with a black ribbon. I delicately opened it, unsure of what to expect.

It was a worn copy, with no illustration on the cover, just the title in simple silver letters. I carefully turned the pages, the words blurring as I sped faster. The edges were crisp and old, but the book felt new and loved.

A clattering from the front of the house pulled my attention away from my post, and I tucked both the letter and book under the pillow on my bed.

The house was small, with mine and Mothers bedrooms and our small bathroom tucked out of sight from the joint kitchen and living area in front of our door. The flowers growing in the hanging baskets were creeping low, shielding our windows from possible busy bodies who peered inside.

I smoothed my hands over my shirt, buttoned and twisted into a skirt which hid the thick soled boots I wore most days.

The knocking and banging sounded again, the wooden door rattling against its hinges. I sucked in a breath, willed calmness into my raging heartbeat, and pulled the door open.

Erik.

He straightened up as the door opened, running a big hand over his blonde hair. It was pulled back today, thickly knotted against his neck. "Sigyn."

I kept one hand on the handle, moving one foot to rest on the stone outside our door. "Erik."

"You look lovely."

I stayed quiet. I knew I looked nice.

He paused, eyes passing over the neighbours house, before turning back to me. "How is your Mother?"