#it's not quite long enough for a typical longsword but a bit too long to use as a one-handed sword

[sidereous]

I have decided that for Metaphor Reasons™️ Silver uses a broken greatsword

[iamfina5]

Sigr Edda

Summary: Sigyn of Asgard is the Goddess of Victory and wife to Loki. Or so humans have mistakenly believed for a thousand years. In truth, she is a peasant living in the shadow of Asgard's palace with power she's yet to understand. After inadvertently gaining the affection of the God of Mischief over the course of a few decades, it's not long before she is forced to choose between her loyalty to Asgard and her love for Odin's traitorous son. Her journey in doing so will take her to Midgard, where her reputation as a hero won't save her from a prophecy that spells death for herself and half the universe. Events span from before the first Thor movie to past Endgame.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Marvel Studios.

Part One: Asgard

Chapter One: The Warrior’s Arena

Next

The first time Loki lays eyes on Sigyn, she’s getting her ass kicked.

Or so it seems.

Thor had woken him up before dawn to show him some stupid new move with Mjolnir and dragged him to the Warriors’ Arena, only to find that it’s occupied.

As they step outside the Mead Hall, they notice Haldana, a friend of theirs and sole heir of the Lord Andor. She stands against the wall of the edifice, nervously tapping her foot as she watches the two fighters in the large, sunken arena.

With the colorful rays of light from the sunrise raining over the ring, Loki sees Sif and a woman about his age exchanging vicious blows. Sif continuously knocks the other woman onto the ground, but can never seem to pin her opponent down long enough to end the spar.

Inspecting Sif’s adversary closer, he wonders who she is. She must be a warrior—she’s in the training grounds designated only for warriors, after all—and only nobility can rise to such a position. He knows all the Lords and Ladies of Asgard, so why doesn’t he recognize her?

She’s awfully pretty, too. He can’t imagine he’d simply never noticed her before.

His brother’s booming voice pulls him away from his musings. “What do we have here,” Thor inquires, addressing Haldana as he regards the display before him.

The young goddess turns to look at the men joining her on the side of the arena, apprehensively twisting a lock of her long, golden hair around one finger. Her lips turn down in an anxious frown. “I brought my sister here for a spar because I thought no one would be around at dawn, but then Sif showed up, flew into a rage and challenged her to a duel.”

“Ah, so this is the bastard sibling, then,” Thor remarks, chuckling. “I have heard many a complaint from Sif about her.”

Loki raises an eyebrow at the revelation of the woman’s identity, a bit confused. He had heard Andor’s spurious offspring was a soldier and simply assumed that the child was a man. There were very few female soldiers, after all. Less than a dozen in the entire army.

It’d be awfully impressive if this woman is indeed a soldier. Likewise, it could explain why she’s been able to keep up with Sif for so long. Usually the warrior finishes off her opponents in a matter of a few short minutes, but from what Loki can tell, they’ve been engaged in this skirmish for quite some time.

“Yes,” Haldana sighs. “She’s loathed her ever since we were little. I believe my mother spoke so ill of her that Sif grew to hate her before they even met.”

Both Loki and Thor nod in understanding, knowing well how stubborn Sif can be, but Haldana isn’t looking at them anymore, too engrossed in the fight between her half-sister and best friend. The brothers follow suit, turning their attention back to the arena.

Sif delivers a series of harsh, overhanded blows with her spear. The smaller woman manages to block all of them with her blade, but the force of the hits sends her to the ground, and her longsword slips from her grasp, flying across the ring.

With a victorious cry, Sif beams and spins around to give an extravagant finishing blow. However, as her back is turned, Haldana’s sister duplicates herself and leaves behind her doppelgänger.

Suffice it to say, Loki is floored. He certainly hadn’t expected to share the skill of illusionary magic with an illegitimate peasant girl. Although, he realizes her abilities are clearly lacking as she dashes away from her duplicate just outside of Sif’s peripheral vision, unable to blend into her surroundings.

However, the trick works just as well. Sif brings her spear down on the woman’s copy. By the time the illusion dispels, Haldana’s sister is standing behind Sif with a dagger to her back.

“Ha,” she shouts, a grin of victory across her face. “I’ve got you! Now, yield, you s—”

The woman’s voice breaks off with a howl of pain as Sif’s elbow snaps back and slams into her face. She stumbles back, raising her arm to deflect a stroke from her opponent’s weapon. Once again, they begin trading blows.

Rather loudly, Thor acclaims, “That was quite impressive! I almost thought she’d had her.”

For the first time since their arrival, Loki speaks up. “What are the stipulations of this duel,” he asks, though not quite sure why he’s interested.

“If my sister wins, Sif has to allow her to finish training here for the day,” Haldana discloses. “If she loses, however, she must never return to the Warriors’ Arena and cut off her hair.”

Sif must truly despise this girl, Loki thinks. Asgardian women of all backgrounds prefer to keep their hair long. Short hair is often recognized as a symbol of servitude and low-birth. To make her cut her hair is to rub her nose in her loss in a surprisingly cruel fashion for a mere sparring duel. Besides, such terms seem very disproportionate.

Thor looks as though he too believes it’s a bit harsh of a punishment, but says nothing.

At this point in the match, the soldier has had not one but two daggers knocked out of her hands, and she’s scrambling to avoid the swipes of Sif’s blades. Eventually, her inferior speed gets the best of her, and Sif lands a kick square in her chest. The strength behind the punt is enough to send her crashing into the wall in the space between the crown prince and her sister.

However, Loki notices that she seems to slow down ever so slightly just before she makes contact with the hard surface, somewhat lessening the impact of her collision. It almost appears as though she’s using telekinesis, but the moment before he can really process it, Thor steps in front of her, asking, “Are you alright? I know the Lady Sif can—”

Sif shoves him out of her way before he can finish whatever he was going to say. She raises one pointed end of her spear to the other woman’s neck and yells, “Yield!”

The woman merely smiles with surreptitious satisfaction. Sif snarls in outrage. Just as she parts her lips to bark out something else, Haldana’s sister comes up behind Sif—it’s now clear to everyone that she had by some means made another duplicate of herself sometime between hitting the wall and this very moment—and places a shortsword at the warrior’s throat.

“No,” she puffs out, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “You first.”

It looks as though she’s won, and Loki can’t help but feel oddly pleased with the outcome.

Withal, Sif suddenly bends and twists her body with the grace only a seasoned fighter could possess, once again turning on her opponent. She pushes the other woman down onto the declining steps that lead to the arena below and holds the blade of her metal lance to bastard’s neck once more, gritting out, “Yield.”

The woman’s chest heaves with effort for a few seconds before she finally hangs her head, softly muttering, “I yield.”

Momentarily appeased, Sif smirks and deactivates her weapon. “About time, peasant. You could have saved yourself a lot of pain if you had only surrendered earlier.”

“My name is Sigyn,” the woman declares savagely as she gets to her feet.

“Whatever,” Sif sneers.

Now that she’s so close, Loki takes a moment to examine her more closely. She has dark, mud-colored hair and eyes to match. Some of the characteristics of her form match her sister’s—her nose and brow, for instance—but for the most part, her features are more ordinary than refined.

She’s not quite short, most likely thanks to her mixed parentage as Asgardian nobility stand at roughly a foot above the lower classes, though she’s not exactly tall either. She wears a short dress typical of female fighters, but it’s noticeably threadbare, betraying her station in life.

Loki thinks she is utterly unremarkable, like any peasant he has ever seen.

He watches as Sigyn grasps her long braid at the base of her neck and brings her dagger behind her head to cut it off from the roots. Her freshly-cut chocolate locks spill past her ears, coming to rest above her shoulders in disarray. Eyes hard, she tosses the thick plait at Sif’s feet and brazenly lifts her chin, face set in defiance and covered in drying blood.

Loki thinks she is utterly gorgeous, like no goddess he has ever seen.

As if she can hear his thoughts, her eyes suddenly snap to meet his, losing their fury all at once. Instead, they shine with surprise, as though she’s only just noticed that the two sons of the Allfather had watched her lose a fight in a place she didn’t belong.

He’s practically certain she can hear his thoughts when those same sepia-brown eyes widen in overt embarrassment. Before he can even think to say anything, she lets out an inscrutable squawk, turns tail and promptly runs away at full speed, her uneven mane fluttering in the wind as she goes.

Sigyn, he thinks, is a rather lovely name.

[moko-ffxiv]

Plot & Story maymay - T’errin “is frickin ded” Mokko

ONE PLACE

Radz-at-Han | The capital of her homeland, the city she ran too, and the city she fled. T’errin is one Miqo’te who is no stranger to the Hannish capital, being a frequent visitor as a little girl and young woman, before she even became a resident later in life. She has even gotten the unique experience of seeing the city from nearly every walk of life, having gone from attending fancy balls, to working as a “common sailor”, to running through the alleyways as a criminal. So, although Radz-at-Han has hosted some of the worst moments of her life, it is also the origin of many pleasant memories. One day, the exile hopes to return to the city she loves and hates.

TWO VILLAINS

T’zoraiz Nunh | The man who viewed her as a beast to be tamed. The man she made a foolish gamble with. The man who defeated her father, and caused his death. The man who she lost too. The man she tried to murder in his sleep. T’zoraiz Nunh is a male Miqo’te around T’errin’s age, one of her villages several nunhs, and the man who she believes completely destroyed her life. Just how true that is however, is unclear to all but a handful of people.

Leos quo Jermaine | A Garlean Centurion T’errin had the displeasure of facing at The Striped Hills during the merciless attack on Rhaglr’s Reach. Although he was defeated and killed, the brutal attack he lead against the uncoordinated and unprepared defense force of mercenaries, caravan guards, rebels, and a handful of Alliance grunts still haunts T’errin’s dreams.

THREE RELATIONSHIPS

T’nuralai El-Orens, Sister | T’errin’s elder sister by mere weeks, and her absolute best friend. Aside from growing up together, they hunted together, forged together, ate together, danced together, fought together, and bled together. Since her father’s passing, there is possibly no one T’errin cares for more than T’nuralai. Even while in exile, she regularly writes to her sister, whom gladly replies. T’errin greatly looks forward to being able to see her three, and soon to be four, nieces waiting for her back home.

Yun Lei, Savior | A Doman refugee turned privateer, Yun Lei was the woman T’errin was closest too during her time on the sea, and the person who saved T’errin from the chopping block. The small Hyur was a bit of an enigma, but the two of them seemed to naturally connect and flow with each other, becoming very efficient partners-in-crime. After T’errin’s arrest due to the Embassy incident and subsequent exposure of her alias, Asha Hannish, it was Yun who managed to both arrange her rescue off of the Garlean prison ship and employment under Rowena. Soon after all was said and done however, the mysterious little Doman vanished.

Rowena, Owner | The one and only owner of the House of Splendors, and T’errin’s boss. It was Rowena’s money that funded the prison break that freed T’errin from execution in Garlemald, and it certainly wasn’t cheap. The tired and dirty Miqo’te wasn’t even in Eorzea for more than a bell before she was brought before Rowena herself and told the deal. It was simple: In exchange for her life, T’errin had to forfeit her freedom until her new debt to Rowena was paid off. There was no refusal.

FOUR ITEMS

Auto-Revolver | The Hannish Miqote’s Hannish-Garlean revolver. With it’s barrel, cylinder, and hammer all sitting on a rail attached to the grip, this revolver uses recoil to allow T’errin to fire off all 5 large-caliber rounds in a matter of seconds. This is something you don’t want to be on the other end of.

Longsword | A new weapon in T’errin’s arsenal, replacing her shortsword and, to an extent, her dagger. She first became interested in longswords when she watched some Ishgardian longswordsmen in action during the initial attack on Baelsar’s Wall, then used one during the defense of The Stripped Hills. Since then, she has ordered her own custom made sword, and it virtually never leaves her side.

Shawls | A bunch of functional, fashionable, and colorful Hannish-designed shawls. T’errin doesn’t have much from her homeland, and the import fees and taxes are quite steep in both Ul’dah and Limsa, making it difficult to justify shipping entire outfits that she can only wear in Thanalan comfortably. A simple long strip of cloth that hangs around your neck or covers your head on the other hand can be brought in straight from Radz-at-Han easy and cheap.

Condor Talon | The old talon of a great condor from the mountain her village is built against. A reminder of her identity as a Condor tribe child and hunter. Nothing more, nothing less.

FIVE CHARACTERS

T’hani Tia | A Condor child that never got to spread his wings, and T’errin’s only brother. Death isn’t a stranger to tribal Miqo’te. They know each hunt they go out on could be their last, but that never softens the blow for those left behind, right Hani?

T’zikra Maheer | If you asked T’errin to name her best friend, that doesn’t have any relation to her, she’d name T’zikra instantly. Aside from knowing each other since they were just tykes, being hunting partners, and sometimes being a bit more than friends, T’zikra helped T’errin escape their village after her failed attempted murder. Being one of the village’s few scholars, T’zikra regularly keeps her exiled friend up to date with events in their village, including developments within the Elder’s Circle.

El-Orens Nunh | Bastard son of a Hannish noble, legendary hunter, war hero, one of the Condor tribe’s nunhs, and T’errin’s father. By all accounts, he lived a very grand life, and to his daughter his very being was bigger than the world. There was no one whom she had more heart for than him. So much so, that rumors circulated after his death and her escape. Rumors of her desire for her own father, a heinous taboo and expressly forbidden. Typically, one would disregard talk like this as slander, but given her actions after his death...

Birna | Another one of Rowena’s “girls”, and possibly the most air-headed Hyurs T’errin has ever met. What she lacks in brains however, she makes up in heart. Birna is a very caring woman, a drastic difference compared to most of the House’s staff. She always is the first one to welcome T’errin home whenever the Miqo’te finally gets a chance to return to Mor Dhona or Idyllshire, and does whatever she can to make T’errin’s stay as comfortable as she can. T’errin may act like Birna’s affection is an annoyance, but she actually greatly enjoys the Hyur’s company.

Malik Faris | The most interesting Hyur T’errin has ever known. She first met the alchemist when he came to her village looking to pay for assistance in gathering some materials from a dangerous part of the jungle near the coast; A place where her tribe occasionally hunts. Herself and several others took him up on his offer, and expected him to be like the other weak Hannish alchemists that commonly hire Miqo’te hunters for this sort of work. He proved them wrong, being just as capable as the Condor hunters he brought with him. T’errin was surprised and impressed enough that she continued to work with him whenever he needed more materials. He is also the only man her heart has ever fluttered for, much to her confusion. Even while in Eorzea, she continues to work with and write to the Hannish alchemist.

SIX MOMENTS

Little Kittens in the Big City | The two of them were very young, T’errin and T’nuralai, when they first went with their father to Radz-at-Han. It was incredible. So many buildings of various heights, so many different people of different races, wearing so many different colors, in so many different styles, with so many different personalities. It was almost overwhelming for the two Miqo’te. They had to see more.

Othardian Doll | They had to be just 7 summers old at the time, when T’errin and T’nuralai visited the Othard Quarter of Radz-at-Han. They were playing with some Doman children when an young Hyur woman approached them, holding a doll in her hands. She told them that she’d give them the doll she was carrying if they answered one simple question - What is your father’s name? When they answered, the woman smiled at them and handed over the cute doll. Before they could thank her, she told the pair to thank their father instead. She said that if it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t have been able to give them that doll, then just walked away. The two Miqo’te children didn’t quite understand, but they were much more interested in their new doll than they were in the woman’s words.

Condor Child | It began as a simple day, all 16 summer old T’errin and T’nuralai, along with 15 summer old T’hani had to do was go up the mountain and pray at the shrine of Azeyma. It stopped being simple about three quarters of the way there, when a giant condor swooped down and attacked them. T’hani wished to run away and get one of the older hunters to kill it, but T’errin and T’nuralai had other ideas. Soon they returned to their village, but dragging along the headless corpse of the very same bird that attacked them.

The Madness | It all started with a simple letter, a simple letter from the Maelstrom to the Captain. It was a call to arms, asking for all Limsans abroad to return home and fight for the newly formed Eorzean Alliance. The Captain was more than happy to answer the call, but gave each crew member the choice to go with him or stay behind and wait. Some of the non-Eorzeans, like T’errin and Yun, elected to stay in Radz-at-Han. Soon the ship sailed, all while Dalamud’s Moon crawled ever so closer. Two days after the moon exploded over Eorzea, the ship and what was left of the crew returned to port. Many died during the battle of Carteneau, and even more were still missing. The Captain managed to survive, but his mind was in shambles. He became paranoid, twitchy, and would even see things that weren’t there. Conflicts between him and T’errin began to become frequent, which marked the beginning of the end of her time outside of chains.

Operation Archon | T’errin first foray into an actual war. Herself, along with many other volunteers from Revenant’s Toll, temporarily formed ranks with the Twin Adders to help them with their mission in Mor Dhona. For T’errin’s part, she worked with a group of Adder skirmishers to take down some of the magitek Reaper patrols that were outside of Castrum Centri when the blockade began. It was a resounding success. The unorganized patrols were either quickly destroyed or surrendered. T’errin never thought she’d ever be in the position those Garleans were that day.

Ala Mhigan Standoff | There was always a risk of encountering the Corpse Brigade on the way to the Sagolii, but they never showed in such large numbers. T’errin had an idea of how valuable the cargo in their caravan was, but she had no idea that it was valuable enough to warrant a company of Corpse Brigade to stop them. A small amount of Immortal Flames troops managed to show up, but the Corpse Brigade still outnumbered both the caravan and Flames 2 to 1. Meanwhile, the citizens of Little Ala Mhigo simply stood at the edge of their sanctuary and watched, not bothering to lift a finger. Thankfully, the situation was defused when a deal was struck between the caravan leader and some Corpse Brigade lieutenant. With less than half of their original cargo in tow, T’errin couldn’t help but watch some of the Ala Mhigan refugees look down on the caravan has they went by. Who the hell did they think they were?

SEVEN QUOTES

“They took Gyr Abania.” | T’errin had seen 9 summers when she heard those words while eavesdropping on an emergency Circle meeting with some Hannish nobles. Aside from the concern of Thavnair’s place in the Empire’s war, there was worry about a Miqo’te tribe in the area that had an old relation to the Condor tribe of Thavnair.

“Remember to watch out for Hani!” | A common set of words that T’errin, T’nuralai, and T’zikra heard when they were growing up. With the rarity for a Miqo’te to be born a boy, the tribe would always lookout for their safety more so than other’s. T’errin misses hearing these words.

“I give! You win, Errin El-Orens.” | As a test of strength, and a bit of entertainment, there was a ring to have a brawl in within her village. Always looking to improve, T’errin regularly took part. She has beaten, and been beaten, by many opponents in the ring, but her proudest moment was when she took one on of the best fighters in her village, and won. She worked hard to get to that moment, and the feeling of seeing where her blood, sweat, and tears got her was better than sex.

“Do you agree to my terms?” | She can still remember the smugness on his face when he said that. She was so sure he was just overconfident after what he had done. She was so angry after what he had done. What if...she said no instead?

“No no no, lass. Lemme show you...” | The words of First Mate Castillion, the Elezen who taught her everything she would come to know about being a sailor. She still uses the skills he taught her to this very day.

“It was YOU wasn’ it! You’ve been plannin’ dis, haven’ you?! You an’ dat hooded man!” | Captain Starke’s accusation against T’errin after barely escaping an anti-pirate ambush set by the Garlean Navy, during his decent into madness. Coincidentally, T’errin was still in Radz-at-Han when the ambush at sea was sprung.

“Welcome to Vesper Bay! I’ll need your name, please.” | The birth of T’errin’s new last name - Mokko. Barely functional after coming off of the “merchant” ship that broke her out of Garlean custody, T’errin nearly gave the port authority her full, real name. Thankfully, Yun was with her and before T’errin could finish, she quickly made a name based off of the first thing she saw - a bunch of bags with moko grass. “Mokko! T’errin Mokko, with two K’s!”

good god this was ruff and i’m like a month late

The bootyful @nightmaze tagged me weeks ago to do this, and considering how long its been, it’d be odd to specially tag anyone. So, like, do this if you want, and tag me, and junk, ya.

[epidaleacalamita]

okay, another one done! i did the lines and a bit of the colors then didn’t work on him for like two days until i started needing something to distract me from how my indecision and cowardice are ruining my life. thank you my garbage drawings for allowing me to forget about my very real problems that will kill me someday

i was gonna put, like, some designs on the flat of the blade but i wasn’t able to come up with anything i quite liked so it’ll go unadorned for now

this was a little painful to draw because i know little to nothing about drawing facial hair, scarves, or plumes. also it was only at the very end when i was looking at the finished drawing that my brain went “wait a minute, are his boots... supposed to look, uh, kinda like converse” and then i had to bite back a scream. idk what to do about it so enjoy

among the scattered frontier townships of illwind bay in the cold west, peacekeepers are tasked with keeping townspeople from tearing at each others’ throats via whatever means they see fit. despite being down one arm, nadhryn is more than capable of keeping peace by threatening people with a sword that probably doesn’t need to be that big and a body built like a castle wall. it helps that he’s usually a full head taller than whatever idiot’s acting out on his watch.

nadhryn lost his arm a long way back when as a peacekeeper-in-training he chased a serial killer into the wilderness in the middle of a snowstorm attempting to bring them down. unfortunately all he managed to achieve was receiving a rusty metal bolt to his sword arm. by the time he made it back to town, infection and frostbite had begun setting in and they had to cut it off at the shoulder. afterwards, nadhryn was rightly pissed considering first off, he’d just lost his dominant arm, and secondly, the murderer escaped him (and probably froze to death since it was in the middle of a snowstorm, but who knows honestly)

getting dropped from peacekeeper training since he couldn’t do jack with his left arm didn’t help. he spent a while just drinking away his anger until his old peacekeeper trainer had to bring him in after he’d gotten absolutely smashed one night. cue a wait until he was proper sober, then a long, extensive, heart-to-heart talk about where he was going in life.

when nadhryn got out, he went about getting back in form, training for hours each day to use his left arm as he’d once his right. and then, when he remembered that his old longsword hadn’t been enough that day, he began training to use it better than his right. heavy greatswords are typically not a weapon used with one hand, and especially not when you’re lacking the balancing weight of your other arm, but bullheaded persistence in his training allowed nadhryn to get the hang of it.

nadhryn’s magical proficiency lies in frost magic, common among those born in the cold west. however, his aptitude for magic is below average and his one hand is usually occupied by his sword, so for the most part his magic is focused toward imbuing his blade with a latent chill that seeps into whatever it hits. this makes his strikes cause numbness in flesh and brittleness in metal, and fights become much easier when your opponent can’t feel their arm and half their sword is on the ground.

sometimes when he’s off duty he smokes to dull the phantom pains of his missing arm when they get really bad. he doesn’t like the goggles but they’re necessary to ward off snowblindness. i initially wanted to have a full scabbard for the sword but settled on just the metal loop thing to hold it because full scabbard was too much of a pain