#& loki friggason 059. * emeraldxphoenix

[victoriousfidelity]

Her eyes drift closed for barely a second as her husband's lips touch her forehead, and she allows herself a brief moment of weakness. She has weathered these attempts with stoicism and calm - the unshakeable Queen of the Vanir - but this time her would-be assassin has come too close.

She knows that Loki would stay, if she asked them to. She knows that if she let how much this has truly shaken her show on her face, they would refuse to leave her side no matter how much they may crave retribution. But Sigyn also knows that they've only been held back from pursuing the culprit before now by her - her requests to let things be handled properly. She's not going to stand in their way any more. She trusts Loki more than anyone. She should have let them take care of this from the beginning.

"Go." Sigyn reiterates softly, before adding: "I love you."

It's Hnoss who takes up their position when they leave, and the Queen's brave face slips back into place as soon as she sees her younger sister's wide-eyed concern. But even with the continuing attention of the palace's healers, it becomes increasingly difficult for her to hide the fact that she is feeling the effects of the poison: the room spins, and she feels feverish and lightheaded. By the time that she is moved to her chambers and given a draught to allow her to sleep through the worst of the aftermath, the temporary oblivion it grants her is a blissful reprieve.

She doesn't know how long passes like this, drifting between dreamless sleep and not-quite-wakefulness, watched over by healers and handmaidens. But at some point her eyes open to find a different figure sitting at her bedside, and the ghost of a smile crosses her features.

"Loki," Sigyn manages, her voice weak but her relief at seeing them no less genuine for it.

@victoriousfidelity (literally ages ago) said: “I’ll be okay, just go.”

Eyes flick down, gaze sharp, taking in the Queen’s flushed cheeks and hazy eyes, her red curls against their lap. Loki snarls, frustration echoing in their throat and tensing their fingers, the wolf of revenge rearing its head within him and baying for blood. Sigyn may have avoided the worst, cup knocked from her hand before she could consume it all, but the poison still breached every defence to pass her pretty lips. 

They want to stay, but know they will not be able to help more than the healers that already surround them, and Sig knows them well enough to recognise the hunger within them to pursue the perpetrator. Mouth curls, angrily, as the Consort bends down to press a kiss to their Queen’s forehead. “I will make them wish their mother had never birthed them.”

Then Loki is sitting up, gesturing for one of Sigyn’s sisters to take their place. The moment they’re free, the trickster twists into the familiar aspect of a black eagle and takes off, intent upon the prey it hunts. These attempts on her life will end, and they will do so soaked in blood and vengeance.