Love is the child of illusion and the parent of disillusion. - Miguel de Unamuno

"What's this? You're not still in bed, are you?"

Sigyn had no time to reply before the drapes covering her bedchamber windows were drawn back with force, causing sunlight to spill over her face.

She squinted in the bright light, straining to see the tall figure of her brother as he stood next to the windows. Edmund – dressed head to toe in the heavy layers of metal and cloth that made up his armor - held his helmet under his arm, his brown hair falling around the shoulders of his golden cloak. Even Sigyn had to admit he cut quite the dashing figure as a Royal Guard, and considering the frequency with which he entertained female guests in their shared apartment, she knew she wasn't the only one.

Sigyn groaned and burrowed down into the covers, chasing the last bit of darkness in the room. "Go away, Edmund," she said from under the blankets. "The queen has not called me to be at the palace until later…can you not allow me a bit more sleep?"

She heard his footsteps cross the floor, and was almost convinced he had left her in peace, when the blankets were pulled away from her face.

"I'm so sorry," Edmund said, sounding anything but. "Her Majesty has requested your presence early. She sent me personally to retrieve you. Now get up."

This got her attention. Since her appointment to serve the Queen nearly four months prior, Sigyn had been attentive and careful in carrying out her responsibilities, never once earning a cross word or complaint; yet it still terrified her to think that she had made a mistake and missed an assigned duty.

"Did she say why? Have I done something wrong?" she asked, sitting up quickly and trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes.

"I don't question the Queen, Sigyn," said Edmund, exasperation in his voice. "When she asks me to do something, I do it." He walked back to her bedroom door. "Now hurry and we can walk back to the palace together."

His tone, as usual, brooked no argument. With a sigh, Sigyn jumped from the bed and pulled on her robe, hastening to ready herself for the day.

The palace was bustling with activity when they arrived, the preparations for the Queen's birthday celebration well under way. Everywhere Sigyn turned, there was movement: fresh flowers were being delivered, food was being prepared, and the banquet hall was being decorated in the jewel tones Queen Frigga favored.

She and Edmund jostled through the crowd, scarcely managing to avoid knocking over an enormous cake carried by three young men, before reaching the kitchens. Edmund turned to continue down a side corridor toward the guard station, but couldn't walk away without offering a last bit of unasked-for advice.

"I know you'll be at the festivities this evening," he said, eyeing a buxom kitchen maid as she hurried past. "However, as soon as your duties are over, you should return home."

Sigyn narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest. "Why?"

"Don't think I haven't seen the way some of the other guards look at you. They hold themselves in check when I'm around, but get some drink in them and their flattery may cause you to make a decision you will regret in the morning," he said. "I would not appreciate having to defend my little sister's honor tonight."

Sigyn sighed, barely repressing the urge to slap the self-righteous smile off his face. "And what of the honor of these maids you so openly ogle?" she asked, just as a group of them walked past, giggling to themselves about what might lay under the armor of a Royal Guard.

"These women are not my sisters. It's different."

"Different. I see," she said, rolling her eyes. "Edmund, you are about as wise to my desires as a wild boar." Before he could reply and anger her further, Sigyn turned and hurried away, running up the stairs that led to the private wing of the palace and the Queen's chambers.

It had been flattering the first few times one of her brother's fellow sentries had flirted with her. One of them, named Völund, had been determined in his pursuit of her, showering her with gifts and declarations of love, until one night she gave in to his advances. Not entirely inexperienced, she had expected at least a soft bed behind her back; he had instead taken her against the wall of an empty stall in the royal stables, her dress bunched around her waist and the stench of horse manure overpowering the perfume she had worn for the occasion.

Their coupling was far too quick and messy to leave them both satisfied. Later, alone in her own bed, she cried into her pillow as she brought herself release with her own hands, swearing she would never permit herself to be with such an inattentive brute of a lover again.

She had never mentioned her tryst with Völund to Edmund, not wanting to hear his disapproval. For his part, Völund had also remained blessedly silent, preferring to move on to a voluptuous blonde seamstress, so different from Sigyn in every way – especially in her willingness to part her legs for him more than once.

From that point on, she lost all interest in the attentions of the other guards. Her mother loved to continually remind her that Sigyn's position as the queen's handmaiden was ideal for finding a suitable husband, but the intellectual abilities of most of the men she met left too much to be desired. They were almost all rough and humorless, and while most Asgardian women found that desirable enough, it was more than just physical power that Sigyn found attractive.

What truly stimulated her was a man with intellect, whose mind was sharp and focused – a man of piercing wit and charm, who didn't relegate good conversation to "a woman's hobby", to use Völund's unfortunate turn of phrase.

A man exactly like Prince Loki.

In the time she had served the Queen, Sigyn had begun to admire the younger prince from afar, never doing more than smiling at him if she happened to catch his eye or offering a kind word or two when the occasion arose. He was so different from his boisterous older brother; where Thor was loud and brash, Loki was reserved and thoughtful. It fascinated Sigyn to see how dissimilar the brothers could be, and yet still have such a fierce love for one another.

To everyone in Asgard, it was obvious that Queen Frigga loved both of her sons dearly, but being privy to the more private behavior of the queen revealed to Sigyn that she had a particularly strong bond with Loki. Nearly every day when she arrived for her duties, she found him with his mother, deep in conversation about every topic imaginable: art, architecture, food, it didn't matter. Like the queen, he was well-versed in everything.

Sigyn had taken to eavesdropping on their conversations as discreetly as she could, noticing that he never mentioned having a lover, male or female, which she found curious but encouraging. She made note of Loki's favorite topics as well, so she could study them on her own time.

Once, her newfound knowledge had given her the nerve to interject a witty remark into their discussion about the culinary styles of Alfheim, and she was rewarded with an appreciative laugh from the prince. Thrilled that she hadn't completely embarrassed herself, she spent the remainder of that day in a happy daze, the music of his laughter replaying over and over again in her head as she went about her duties.

Sigyn had put Edmund's nonsense entirely out of her mind by the time she reached the queen's chambers. She entered as quietly as possible, finding Queen Frigga seated at her small writing table. Just as she had hoped, Loki was there visiting with her, leaning against the wall as his hands excitedly emphasized every word he said. Sigyn approached them slowly, trying not to be obvious as she took in the sight of him.

He was dressed in his usual dark attire, black tunic and dark green breeches with tall black boots. On anyone else, it would have looked harsh and forbidding, but on Loki it was visually striking. He was all long limbs and graceful bearing, so different from the typical Asgardian male. His pale skin, angular features, and astonishing green eyes were all set off by a frame of hair the same ebony hue as his clothing. While she watched, the queen said something that he found funny, and when he smiled Sigyn was struck yet again by how stunning he was.

She lost herself for a moment, holding her gaze an instant too long, just long enough for Loki to look up from their conversation and directly at her. She dropped her eyes immediately, smoothing out imagined wrinkles in the front of her dress, trying desperately to take the attention off the blush burning on her cheeks.

"Your Majesty," she managed to say, her voice cracking with embarrassment. "You sent for me?"

"Ah, Sigyn!" she replied. "Forgive me for calling you in earlier than planned. I was becoming a little overwhelmed with preparations for this evening when Loki suggested I call you in to help."

At this revelation, Sigyn glanced at the prince. Loki was still staring at her, the look on his face unreadable. Her heart rose to her throat and she swallowed hard, trying to calm her sudden nerves. She hadn't even been sure that he knew her name.

"I was just preparing a list of things I need for you to see to before this evening," continued the queen, standing up from her chair and handing Sigyn a sheet of parchment. "Right now I need to go and take care of some last minute details about this evening's meal, but if you have any questions I will return soon." She started in the direction of the door, turning back after a few steps to ask Loki if he could accompany her.

"If you'll give me just a moment, Mother, I need to look at your books. There is a volume I have been intending to borrow," he said, pointedly looking in Sigyn's direction. "Don't wait for me - I'll catch up shortly."

Sigyn could hear the queen's footsteps as she left, and was suddenly and terribly aware that she and the prince were alone. She looked at the list the queen had given her, reading the same lines again and again in an attempt to look occupied.

Sneaking a sidelong glimpse at Loki, Sigyn watched as he walked to the bookshelf nearest to him and removed the first book he came to, not even bothering to read the spine.

"Sigyn," he said, and her name on his lips put a knot in her stomach. "You think you have slipped my notice. I assure you, you have not." He turned to face her, the intensity in his eyes emphasizing every word. Sigyn couldn't look away.

He approached her, his footsteps slow but determined. "I do hope I haven't misinterpreted your behavior. You seem quite eager for my attention."

Sigyn's mouth went dry as he neared her. She found herself unable to form a coherent thought that didn't involve doing unspeakable things with the prince in his bedchambers, and she was terrified he would see it in her eyes and deem her no more than a desperate trollop.

She swallowed thickly, attempting to regain her composure. "I have only ever hoped that you would not find me intolerable, Your Highness; nothing more. It would be foolish of me to wish otherwise."

He stopped within arm's reach of her. "I have suffered many fools in my life, Sigyn. I don't believe I would count you among them."

"That's very flattering," she said. "But, you barely know me."

"I know more than you think. And I would get to know you better, if you would allow it."

Allow it? "I would certainly be in no position to deny you what you want, Your Highness." Sigyn regretted the words immediately; she hadn't intended for them to sound so indecent. Her hand flexed in mortification, crumpling the edge of the parchment she held.

"What I want?" Loki smiled at her. It was not quite a leer, but the knot in her stomach intensified at the sight of it. "What I want from you is just some of your time. Tonight, at the celebration – a chance to talk and see if my suspicions about you are true."

"Your suspicions?"

He closed the distance between them, and started to pass her, stopping when they were shoulder to shoulder. He leaned in, until he was close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek as he spoke. "I suspect that you would be well worth getting to know more…intimately."

Sigyn's eyes widened and she shuddered in a breath. "Your Highn-," she began, spinning to face him, but her words faded on her tongue. He had vanished, leaving her alone in an otherwise empty room with only her heart hammering in her chest and her increasingly lewd thoughts to keep her company.