Loki: [about Sigyn] I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way, what bliss.

queenofswords:

—A retelling by Lux Heljardottir.

When I married the King’s brother, I didn’t know what would happen. How could I?

I understood he had children with another woman—but she was elsewhere and they weren’t mine to raise. I understood he was blood-tied into our people—but he was the brother of King, and it was the King himself who approved our marriage. It was good for alliances, after all, but it wasn’t political for me. I did love him. I won’t ever deny that. How could I deny him after all this time? To deny him would be to deny myself. To deny the parts of my truths that have come to define me—though I never saw it coming.

I loved him and that was the beginning of everything.

When we married in Asgard, the sun was the colour of hay when it’s first stacked, yellowed and streaked with bluegreen, like the sky managed to touch it this time instead of the other way around. I remember the smell of magnolia on the air and it rained, a little sunshower, just for a few minutes. I remember feeling like a dragonfly who’d finally found her wings. He was the citrine to my amethyst. I loved my hardluck lover the way people love an underdog and I always cared for strays but he was the one I took home. I loved him under that sun and it’s the same sun that still shines now, after all this time.

How to explain a beginning you can’t find, other than this moment?

It began in love and it ends in love.

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portraitoftheoddity:

I read those myths about Sigyn holding the bowl of poison over Loki to keep it from spilling on him and everyone focuses on Loki getting venom on his face and ignores the fact that with holding a heavy-ass bowl out at arm’s length all freaking day, girl’s arms have gotta be jacked as hell.