Sigyn groaned softly when she heard her husband's boots glide smoothly across the marble floor of their bedchamber. It took her a few moments to realize, in her sleep-addled state, that he was no longer at the other side of their large bed, but rather halfway out of the room. She blinked rapidly when she heard him shut the door, the gesture soft as though not to wake her, but it was far too late for that. No, she was certainly roused now and quite alert to the fact that her husband was no longer in bed at her side. She sat up, a hand running through her dark hair, and she frowned; had he always snuck out on her while she slept, only to creep back to her side come morning? It worried her that she couldn't be sure.

Their marriage was still fresh, only three months in, and her mother warned her that it would take time before a man and wife were truly comfortable with one another. Well, Loki had certainly been comfortable enough to pursue her away from Balder, and he had been confident enough to marry her after a notoriously short engagement. However, doubt quickly filled Sigyn's mind; she had married for love, and yet Loki spent more time training with Thor than he did with her, and he seemed most interested in her when she put exorbitant amounts of time into her physical appearance. Sometimes, she wondered if that was why he married her – because she looked pretty on his arm. There he was, the less favoured brother in the All-father's eyes, and yet he had the beautiful wife, while his brother seemed destined to be a permanent bachelor, an heir to Asgard's throne almost non-existent.

And now here he was, sneaking out in the middle of the night while she supposedly slept, ignorant to his deception. She bit her lip, glaring across the dark room to a window that showed off the palace's immaculate architecture. How dare he? How dare he play her out to be the fool, the fool who offered up her heart freely to a man who obviously had no respect for it? Without hesitation, she threw off the thin sheet they usually slept beneath – or perhaps only she slept beneath? – and then rushed to her closet. She wouldn't dare be seen in her nightdress outside of her bedroom, and instead opted to throw on a simple purple garment, shirking the green she usually wore for him. After she ran a brush through her hair and popped a white sweet in her mouth to freshen her breath, Sigyn hurried out of their bedroom, her bare feet hardly making a whisper as she moved.

"My lady!"

She paused when one of the sentries called for her, a tall man with broad shoulders and a strangely narrow waist.

"Is everything all right?"

"Tell me no lies," Sigyn ordered sharply, the tone of her voice one that she rarely let loose around the palace, lest Loki lose his image of the immaculate woman. "Where has my husband gone?"

"I…" the guard trailed off, fiddling with his sword nervously, "I know not-"

"Tell me," she demanded, "or I shall tell him you snuck into our bed in his absence. Do you know what he will do to you? He will turn you into an insect and squash you with the heel of his boot-"

"The Bifrost, my lady," the man stammered. "He means to travel this night."

Sigyn blinked back her surprise, both at how easy a false threat had rolled off her tongue and that her husband sought to pay Heimdall a visit. For sneaking out in the middle of the night, she might have thought he had found his way into the bed of a woman he was truly satisfied with, not the stoic protector of the realm. She stood in front of the obviously uncomfortable guard for a very long moment, contemplating what she ought to do with this information. A good wife would return to bed, satisfied in the knowledge that her husband had not snuck off to visit a noblewoman while she slept. However, the curiosity she usually kept restrained tugged at her, and she hurried down the hall without another word to the servant.

It wasn't until she was halfway across the bridge that she removed the cloaking spell she had whispered, as she had no desire to be stopped by any of the other security who roamed the palace at all hours. Heimdall would have already known her intentions, however, and it would be frivolous to try to shield herself from the one who saw all. Unfortunately, she realized she could have dressed better for the occasion, and she pulled her deep neckline together as she approached the gatekeeper, her confidence faltering when she saw he waited for her at the end of the rainbow bridge.

"I seek-"

"Your husband has gone to Midgard, my lady," sounded the booming voice of Heimdall, his piercing gaze omnipotent and otherworldly as she approached. He seemed to stare right through her, and in that moment she felt very small. "Your worries are unnecessary."

"They linger all the same," she insisted weakly. "Will you send me there? To wherever he has gone? I must see for myself…"

The gatekeeper remained silent for a very long moment, and Sigyn swallowed thickly. He finally met her gaze, the stare so frightfully intense that she was forced to look away at once, and he shook his head, "I cannot send little lords and ladies from Asgard on a whim."

"But you did," she argued, nodding back to the domed station behind him. "He's gone there, and I… I must know why. You understand, do you not?"

"I know of your reasoning, yes," Heimdall remarked, "but I cannot understand it."

"Well, that hardly seems possible," Sigyn told him. "Please, just this once? I shall never ask a favour of you again!"

"You will, but no time soon."

Sigyn watched as the giant man stepped aside and permitted her to pass, moving quite gracefully for someone of his size. She hurried along through, having only a basic memory of the way an ancient magic would transport her to Midgard. Her dress trailed along the pristine floor as she moved, and when she glanced over her shoulder, she saw that the gatekeeper had positioned himself atop a pedestal.

"You'll send me to where he is?" Sigyn asked tentatively, "I shan't be lost?"

"Not under my watch, loyal Sigyn," Heimdall replied, using the title many had given her for her willingness to stand by her husband through his many faults and wrongdoings. "Brace yourself."

She closed her eyes, and her hands shook when she heard the connection between the realms become established. It was a thunderous, awful sound, one that she vowed to not hear again unless absolutely necessary. When the pull of magic brought her in, she wrapped her arms around her slim form, and moments later felt the tug of travel drag her across the realms. When she finally forced her eyes open, she saw that she no longer stood in Asgard, but rather a dim alley in Midgard, a realm she had only visited on several occasions. Normally, when she was there at night, it was always fairly quiet, particularly when she visited back in the time of the Viking.

However, this was different. She certainly was not in the land of the Asgardian lore, but rather a western nation of some kind. As she exited the alley, no thought given to her state of dress, she assumed it was an American continent based on the language she heard thrown about. Her husband had come to somewhere on the small-scale indeed: little houses lined the streets, and there was no sign of splendor or royalty. Instead, mediocrity met her eye, and she licked her lips as she stepped out onto the dirty white sidewalk.

There were children everywhere. They shrieked and laughed as they raced between the houses, knocking on doors until someone surfaced to be greeted by some chorus demand. The little ones were costumed, while the adult Midgardians ranged in their state of dress, some costumed while others merely seemed wrapped for warmth. The houses were covered with decoration, goblins and ghouls lingered in windows; it seemed she had stepped into a nightmare, and yet apparently her husband longed to be here.

Sigyn wandered the streets for some time, and no one paid her more than a flicker of attention. Normally, Asgardian dress would warrant some hard looks, and yet with all the other colourful characters roaming around her, no one seemed to mind her purple garment. Instead, she blended in with the others, which, in a way, offered a strange sense of freedom. Her husband remained ever elusive, but Sigyn eventually spotted a familiar pair of horns strolling casually on the other side of the street, a satisfied grin on his face as several children raced from a nearby house screaming. Loki stood still for a moment, hands clasped behind his back as he watched, and then laughed softly.

Just then, she felt rather foolish. There he was, clearly seeking privacy from the rest of Asgard for whatever reason he had, and she had forced Heimdall to send her there to break his solitude. She would have turned away, left him in his peace, had not a startling pair of green eyes met her blues ones from across the way. The smile fell from his lips, and she felt her stomach knot uncomfortably at the shock on his features. Seeing as it would only be worse if she left him now, she hurried across the street, lifting the skirts of her dress up in disdain as a gaggle of demons raced by her.

"Husband," she breathed when she was close enough, "I…."

"Why are you here?" he asked, his voice neither accusatory or enraged, but rather quiet and pensive. Judging by the expression on his face, Sigyn wondered if a hint of embarrassment lurked beneath his stubborn stare. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes," she insisted, suddenly feeling incredibly foolish, more so now than ever, that she had thought him to be unfaithful. "I saw you leave, and I worried."

"So you followed me to Midgard, little wife?" he inquired, the corners of his lips quirking upward. "I am honoured."

"You need not be," she chuckled weakly, enjoying the way he looked when he was genuinely amused with her. This was the most they had spoken in days. "I have right to worry for my husband."

"Not tonight, you do not," Loki told her as he began to walk, and Sigyn hastened to his side. "Well, you have no need to worry… I suppose you shall always have the right."

She fell silent as they walked together, her eyes on the herds of human children who raced about, sacs of loot in their hands. Suddenly, he offered her his arm, and she quickly looped hers around it, cheeks flushing a dull crimson as she did. They may have regularly consummated their marriage, but her husband was seldom affectionate with her publically.

"Why are you here?"

"It is a trip I try to make annually," Loki remarked. "All Hallows Eve is steeped in tradition here, you see, in many cities of this realm, big and small. I enjoy watching the chaos."

Yes, that was the right word for it. Sigyn nodded, although she had trouble understanding why he bothered with the traditions of Midgard, particularly when she knew of his mild disinterest in the planet as a whole.

"It is a night based on fear," he whispered, his lips suddenly very close to her ear. Her skin prickled. "They dress this way to keep the true monsters at bay… The holiday is so trite now, but the implications of it always seem to draw me in."

"You seem content in the fear," Sigyn noted.

"You must think poorly of me." His voice was very soft when he spoke again.

"No," she said quickly, her eyes wide as she glanced up at him, "I think poorly of myself. I had thought… When I saw you leave, I had thought the worst."

Loki fell silent for a long moment, and then frowned, "The worst? Did you think I left our bed for the bed of another?"

"Foolishly so, it seems," she admitted, her words tumbling forth before she could stop them. "We do not seem suited sometimes, husband. I worry."

They both watched a cluster of children hurry out in front of them, bags in hand, a weary mother trailing along after them. She nibbled her lower lip, waiting for a further reaction about her revelation of their marriage. However, it never came. Instead, Loki grinned cheekily, and flicked his hand at a nearby automobile. The thing erupted in a clamour, lights flashing and horns wailing when a child went near it, and the little boy screamed in return. The mother came forth, admonishing the whimpering brat with threats of candy removal and the like.

Sigyn then realized why he figured she would think poorly of him – Loki came to Midgard to shamelessly torment human children. He revealed in the fear, the panic, the chaos, and yet it was all harmless so that no one could fault him. There wasn't a soul out there who could punish him for playing, and yet he could truly ruin someone if he wished; his magic was impressive, and hers paled in comparison. However, she wanted to show him that she could play too, that his little wife did not look down on him for his pursuits.

She brought her hand up, and gracefully trailed it along a row of metal tins across the street, ones that humans deposited their garbage in. She did so just as a pair of little girls in bright pink dresses skipped along, and she heard Loki laugh as they screamed; they raced along the row as Sigyn knocked the tin cans over, each one narrowly missing a girl as it fell.

"I think, little wife," Loki started, sliding his hand through her thick dark hair and kissing her temple, "that we are more suited than we may have considered."

"I had hoped so," she whispered, accepting another chaste kiss to her cheek, her eyes closing at the contact. When he pulled away, she gazed up into his handsome face, "You know, if we waited in the shadows, we might really be able to scar one of them for their short lifetime…"

Loki laughed merrily, the first time he had done so when they were alone, and Sigyn clapped her hands as he conjured up a duplicate of himself, using it to terrorize a squadron of little boys up the street.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Happy Halloween! This sort of just came to me, and I thought it would make for a cute little one-shot between Sigyn and Loki. I like the idea of Sigyn having a hint of twisted humour in her – otherwise it might be a challenge to put up with Loki's darker interests.

I know "technically" it's November 1st, but seeing as it is still Halloween somewhere in the world, it's going up. Enjoy all your candy loot, dearies!