Spaces Between

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•Chapter Twenty-Two•
Squad Goals
(ASGARD)

THIRD PERSON P.O.V.

It had been four days. Four awful days of waiting in fear. Sigyn could no longer find it in herself to cry any more then she already had. She had exhausted her tear ducts and would have been content with staring blankly at wall to drown out her sorrows, if not for the raging hatred for Alder coursing through her veins.

Sigyn had long since settled her trembling fingers, but her heart still ached.

"My child," the Queen's voice was soft. She had mourned too.

Mourned her husband, her kingdom, and her sons that were at the mercy of a homicidal bastard. She had not shed a tear but yet her blue eyes held an endless sadness and her beautiful features seemed to have aged beyond her years.

Sigyn looked to Frigga, her honey gold hair pulled back tight, not free flowing as she normally had it. The onyx black funeral gown wrapping around her form like gusting shadows—the same dress that she nearly refused to take off, save for bathing.

Sigyn had begun to believe that it was what was keeping the Queen from breaking.

"Yes?" Sigyn responded quietly. Her voice felt foreign, echoing in her ears. Frigga reached down and gripped her hand gently.  She didn't need words, the gesture was comforting enough.

The Goddess Eir, who had been sitting silently across the room and scouring through an old spell book, sat up rapidly.  Sigyn watched as her maroon painted fingers slid across the parchment.  Hope started filling Sigyn's chest.

"I think I might ha—"

The door to the study burst open, cutting Eir off.  A breathless, red faced Healer ran in.

Frigga pulled her hand back, startled.  "Faline, what is it?"

Sigyn recognized her now.  The sharp silver eyes and flowing white hair. 

"Alder," Faline coughed out, "him and....and several of his guard, they...they are coming this way."

Sigyn straightened in her chair.  The sound of Eir slamming her book close became the only sound in the room.  The brunette Goddess quickly grabbed the book and slid it under a stack of folk tales on the other side of her table.

She hadn't so much as pulled her hands back when the study doors slammed open again.

Sigyn wasn't sure what happened first; her leaping to her feet or Frigga drawing two long daggers from the folds of her dress.  But, she realized very quickly that neither were wise ideas.  Sigyn instantly felt sick to her stomach.

The Frost Giant sorcerer stood next to Alder.

Nydri, as he had been called, threw his arm out.  Frigga's blades went skittering across the stone floor.  She twisted her hands, manifesting them back to her palms but Nydri was quicker.  Familiar metal cuffs circled themselves around her thin wrists.  Her shoulders instantly slumped forward as if an invisible weight had begun pulling her down.

Sigyn felt for the small, silver edged push dagger hidden at her waist.  One that Loki had gifted her so many years ago.  The one she could never bare to part with.