#The Radiance of Alfheim

[dzelonis]

Matt Larkin - Gods of the Ragnarok Era #1-9

[bubbleteycosplay]

What if Sigyn's stories

Part 22

So many different universes, so many different possibilities. And in some loves Sigyn and their different stories. Pictures and brief information have been written about some of these possibilities.But what is her full story, we don't know. But we can spin them further in our thoughts ^^

The whole project here serves to show the possibilities and potential that Sigyn would have had within the Marvel Universe. How she could have been reintroduced, her story made new and more exciting. #JusticeForSigyn stands for creating Sigyn content because Marvel doesn't give us any.

Inspired by @fauna-and-mythos @dailylogyn @dank-art @jonquilclegane @sigynthevictorious @thewitchysystem @shenanigans-and-imagines @timeladyjamie @therese-lokidottir @puckwritesstuff @sigynappreciation @sigyn-obsessed @ellecaterina @roruna @mistress-of-words

Star Meadow (Marvel version of the fairy tale King Thrushbeard) story by @jonquilclegane

Sigyn Freyadottir was the most beautiful princess in all of the realms, but did not want to marry. Any suitor that dared ask for her hand, she would mock and insult. She refused to belong to any man, as she was perfectly happy on her own, loved and cherished by her parents. However, one day, the young king of Jotunheim, Loki, came to Vanaheim to court the untamed beauty. From the start, Sigyn knows this one will be quite a challenge…

This story will soon become a fanfiction 😊 See you on AO3 in a few weeks!

A dangerous longing

A look at the naked corpse of a woman found in the Asgard River, and no one else, Sigyn the daughter of Frayers is a princess of Vanaheim that begins to riddle "whom she wears a bridal dress". The dead woman lies on a white cloth. A silver ring is on his left hand. The words "48 hours, 12 minutes, 38 seconds" are scratched into her torso. Who is the killer who directed Frayer's daughter to? Who was "the groom"? This conspiracy leads into the ranks of Asgard and Iduna will do everything to solve the murder of her sister to bring about justice!

Wagner Sigyn Story by @jonquilclegane

Freya was in trouble, and once again, Odin had sent him, Loki, to find a solution. Well, not any solution, truly. The giants wanted a bride, and not any bride, of course, they wanted the Goddess of love and Beauty, Freya. No other shared her looks, her charms, her grace and refinement… Well, maybe he did, but that was another story.

Loki knew the Giants would not accept any other maiden, yet, he still had to roam the roads of Midgard in the foolish hope he would find some worthy substitute for Freya.

Midgard was pointless. Mortals might be charming, but their beauty was fleeting. Vanaheim was the realm who had witnessed the birth of Freya, yet none of its flowers shared her radiance. Light Elves from Alfheim could have done the trick, but none would accept such bargain.

Maybe he could offer the Giants some treasures from the Dwarves mines? Loki pondered the question for some time before realizing that in the whole wide world, there are nothing more valuable than the love of a worthy woman, her beauty, her delight. They would never accept anything else, would they?

Wandering the streets of Nidavellir gloomily, he mournfully tried to imagine himself in front of Odin, Freya, Feyr and the rest, admitting his defeat. The task Odin had given him was truly impossible! No other goddess would do!

Then, when he had lost all hope, he heard a voice, and felt a warm hand on his back.

“Sir?”, the melodious voice asked, “Are you quite well? You look so sad. May I help you?”

And there she was, his impossible treasure!

Long wavy reddish hair, eyes bluer than the Vanir seas, a sweet demeanor, and a smile that would have melted the Jotun mountains. Yes, she was perfect. The Giants would love her!

“The sight of you gives me health and joy, my sweet”, the God of Mischief cooed, “Please, tell me your name”

The maiden blushed prettily, visibly charmed by his words. Gods, she was adorable. Loki felt desire rising inside of him, however he had to ignore it. She was not for him, but for the giants. Yes, that gentle little lady was a perfect replacement for Freya, and the Giants would be all over her, their dirty hands soiling her ivory skin. That thought alone made Loki feel nauseous and furious…. Yet, he did not have the choice, did he?

“My name is Sigyn”, the maiden replied, curtsying to him, as if he were a Prince or a King. So courteous and polite! What a tragedy to sacrifice her to those brutes!

They talked a little, and the more they did, the more charmed Loki was by her wit and her intelligence. And the more he did not want to let her go.

The more he wanted her for himself.

The Hel with Freya and the Asgardian gods! He would not let the Giants take his Sigyn. For she would be his, from then on.

While the Gods thought he was looking for Freya’s replacement, Loki courted Sigyn, and married her. He found a quiet, lovely place by the river, and build a comfortable home for himself and his bride, and the children he was sure she would give him. Ah, the things a man would do for the love of a charming woman! Thanks to a spell, he hid Sigyn’s existence from Odin and Heimdall. They would never find her, and so, never give her to those awful giants.

Freya would have to go, but better her than Sigyn.

When the Gods left for Valhalla, Loki stayed behind. Many wondered why, others thought it was because he hated the Aesirs, but in truth, he had a family waiting for him, and for whom he would have sacrificed Heaven itself.

One bright day, shining by winter_writes

One bright day, shining:

Years after Sigyn disappeared, Loki finds her by pure coincidence, but she vanishes just as quickly. Sigyn clearly isn’t being held prisoner, so why did she leave Loki? And why did she never come back?

A prince falls in love (AU Story!)

Sigyn and Loki meet while studying at Oxford. Things immediately crackle between them, but Loki isn't allowed to love who he wants. For he is a prince and heir to a family tradition of noble family enterprise! His feelings for a commoner are fodder for the gossip press. And Loki's noble parents are anything but "amused" by the paparazzi photos of Sigyn and Loki...

Kiss the snowman (Bridgerton Inspired Story and by the Fanart from @officialjellydoughnut )

Among the most beautiful daughters of Frayer, Sigyn belongs rather to the sort of Frayer daughters Umplain, despite being popular in society, she couldn't be happier. She's married and she and Theoric are thinking about family planning. And is still Theoric's best friend Loki, he is hopelessly in love with the only one he can't have... Sigyn!

As the man of honour's best friend, Loki has to be content with the role of good friend for better or for worse. When Theoric dies tragically, Loki doesn't dare to confess his feelings to Sigyn. Instead, he travels back to Asgard to take his mind off his longing. But he can't really stand it without Sigyn and returns to Vanaheim after many years as punishment for his actions in Midgard. Just in time! Because Sigyn plans to marry for the second time. And reject him as the snowman, as she mockingly calls him, and don't want to hear his evasions or his decisions! And swears to herself before the year is out she'll kiss the snowman!

The lies that divide us

Sigyn's point of view:

Imagine you are at home and suddenly there is a man standing in front of you. He claims to be your husband. But you don't know him. And nothing in your home indicates that he lives with you. you are afraid And you feel that irresistible urge to pick up a knife. Are you crazy?

Loki's point of view:

Imagine you come home and your wife doesn't recognize you. She thinks you're a burglar. Worse for a rapist. You just want to protect her. But she fights back. She obviously thinks you're crazy. Is it you? Or is someone playing their perfidious game with you?

Nobody was allowed to see her story by @jonquilclegane

Freya had three great treasures she hid from everyone’s eyes in Sessrumnir. The first one was a coat of falcon feathers that allowed you to turn into a bird and fly in the sky. The second one was a magnificent necklace, manufactured by the Dwarves. And last but not least, there was Freya’s most precious treasure. No one knew what it was, though everyone had their theory, and tried to guess.

Another jewel? Another magical item? So many gods and proud warriors had tried to penetrate into Freya’s castle to discover the nature of this “most precious treasure”. However none had succeed. Nobody was allowed to see it…

Actually, nobody was allowed to see her.

Yes, the treasure was actually a person, and not any person. This was the daughter of Freya herself, Sigyn. No one knew Freya had a child with the dwarf Iwaldi, except for the Vanir queen’s closest friends and family. So, of course, no one could have guessed the identity of this treasure.

Freya simply adored her daughter. Some might have said she loved her too much, and her fear of one day losing her, made the queen excessively careful, surrounding her child with care, and love, but also smothering her with her terror someone would take Sigyn from her, or hurt her.

The young princess grew up alone, with no friend to play with, or talk to, as Freya trusted no one enough to allow them to meet her beloved child.

Sigyn loved her mother, but was tired of this loneliness. Of course, she had her books, for which she was grateful, yet, she yearned for something more. She longed for a companion who would understand her, who would talk to her, make her smile, make her laugh. How happy she would be to spend time with them!

Her mother did not trust gods and mortals, but she might not be so wary of pets and other animals. During one of the few walks outside her mother had granted her, Sigyn saw from afar the most beautiful mare. She wished to approach and feed her some carrots, and the queen, foreseeing some danger had first refused. However, after seeing the pain in her daughter’s eyes, she agreed.

“Don’t stay too long, and don’t go too near… She could hurt you!”, Freya warned her.

But Sigyn was enchanted by the animal, caressing her, whispering sweet things into her ear, feeding her all the carrots she could conjure.

Freya sighed in defeat, and let the horse into her stables, where Sigyn could visit her whenever she wanted.

“She is pregnant”, Sigyn had cried in delight, “Soon, we shall have a little one!”

When the foal turned out to have eight legs, Freya screamed in horror, while Sigyn was delighted.

“He shall be so fast”, she said in wonder, while her mother looked at the mare with growing suspicion.

With her most powerful seidr, Freya gave the mare back her original form, and Loki appeared. The Queen was furious, ready to slay the intruder, but it was too late. Sigyn was in love with the God of Mischief.

She prayed, and begged her mother to spare her lover.

Eventually, Freya granted her wish, and though she hated Loki, she agreed to marry them.

And this is how Freya’s most precious treasure, became Loki’s very own treasure and delight.

The Secret of the Library Story by @jonquilclegane

Sigyn had always loved books. Even before she learned to read, she loved their shape, their smell, and the pretty illustrations. Her grandfather, Njord, used to tell her all about their stories: how the dashing hero saved the beautiful princess, while slaying ugly, terrifying monsters.

That soon became a very good reason and source of motivation to learn and read by herself, discovering worlds and realms she had never dared to dream of.

She read a lot of novels, but also many volumes on Geography, History and Mathematics. People now called her the “Scholar princess”, and Sigyn did not mind. She took pride in every new thing she learned, opening schools in Vanaheim, so her passion for knowledge could be shared with the rest of the Vanirs.

She wished she could stay home, among her books forever, but soon, the Queen of Asgard, Frigga, started looking for brides for her sons. And so, Sigyn and her sisters had to go to the Golden realm to be officially presented to the royal family.

The first thing she did after their arrival was to look for the royal library. Who cared about those princelings, when she could be devouring new books?

All she desired in the Nine worlds was to stay there, at least for the duration of their visit. Truthfully, no one really needed her. The princes would find fine brides with her sisters, all beautiful and accomplished. They were perfect queen candidates, while Sigyn only ever loved her books.

Sigyn was rather surprised to find another avid reader, enjoying some volume on Seidr, under the staircase. She had willingly avoided the Princes, and yet, one of them had crossed her path, their common interest bringing them together in a way that she could never have imagined.

For weeks, Sigyn and Prince Loki exchanged opinions on the books they had read, laughing together at scenes that they had found excessively humorous, or mourning characters they had liked.

Her last night in Asgard arrived much too quickly, and Sigyn’s heart started to weep at the idea of leaving her friend. Who would she talk to about books, and share her love for all those epic stories and fascinating discoveries with, once she was back in Vanaheim?

“I need to show you something”, Loki said on their last encounter.

Sigyn followed him in a part of the library she had not yet explored, and gasped in wonder when her friend opened a secret passage, dark and sinuous. But Sigyn’s sense of adventure was not to be doubted. She was a Valkyrie’s daughter, after all. When Loki grabbed her hand, she giggled and went with him without any hesitation.

The passage led to another library, hidden from the other gods, only known by the AllFather himself.

“I found out its existence by accident”, Loki explained, “All those books are forbidden, but now, we can read them!”

The young Vanir shared her friend’s enthusiasm, barely able to focus on which side of the room, which selves she wanted to explore first. There were so many precious volumes, some nearly legendary, as she had heard of them, but thought them lost forever in the fires of war. Some were from Alfheim, other from Jotunheim, and of course, others from Vanaheim. Odin must have had them stolen when he conquered the other realms, all those centuries ago.

Sigyn felt a little angry that all those treasures were now out of reach for their own people, hidden away, with no one but Glad of War to read and enjoy them. Did he even read them? Probably. The AllFather was known to enjoy a good book from time to time, but he could never give those volumes the care and time and interest they deserved.

All of these should have been sent back to their previous owners, it would have been the fair and just thing to do. Yet, to protest and demand the books’ restitution, would have meant to admit she knew of this secret library’s existence.

She would be in deep trouble, and so would Loki.

Sigyn sighed in defeat. Odin was all powerful, and Vanaheim was too weak to lose Asgard’s protection. This was a battle they could not win.

Suddenly, she felt Loki’s arms snake themselves around her waist, and his lisps caress the skin of her neck.

“Stay with me”, he pleaded, “Don’t go back to Vanaheim. Be my wife, Sigyn”

The young princess turned around and smiled at her beloved, letting him kiss her as much as he pleased.

She did not like the AllFather, but she did love Loki. And maybe as a Princess of Asgard, she could one day free those books, and let them find their rightful owners? This was her hope and ambition. But this would be for another day…

The enemy in us

Why is she doing this? Why is she able to do this? The answer to that lies years ago...

Sigyn is Princess of Vanaheim and Asgard. She is a loving mother of two children, she impresses with her big heart, her black humor and her coolness. On the other hand, Sigyn is the niece of the dwarf king, she likes to drink and is happily married. Sigyn life is good. But suddenly this life is thrown off balance by the murder of her husband Loki, Odin's adopted son. Loki is killed before her eyes. The killer flees. Everything falls apart. Sigyn mourns, but does not want to come to terms with her fate. By chance, she finds out that there is more to her husband's murder... Sigyn seeks revenge. What happened? Why did Loki have to die? When she finds the answers, she strikes. mercilessly.

Part 23 is in progress ^^

Here you can find the last part

[newsaza]

God of War: Ragnarök - How To Slow Time During Combat

God of War: Ragnarök – How To Slow Time During Combat

God of War: Ragnarök players can use Realm Shift to slow time in combat. To do so, players need to find the Radiance armor set in Alfheim’s Barrens. Realm Shift returns in God of War: Ragnarök as a unique ability players can use to slow down time and gain a valuable edge over their enemies in combat. Combat in God of War: Ragnarök is often tricky, with players required to balance hard-hitting…

[cozy-the-overlord]

Funny Little Ups and Downs

Summary: Loki is having a bad day. The love of his life is being sent away to marry some ridiculous Vanir prince, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Then her little sister shows up to give him a pep talk.

Word Count: 3,824

Pairing: Loki x Sigyn

A/N: Sound the alarms! Alert the media! Cozy wrote something happy! I actually wrote the majority of this over three months ago, then got stuck on the ending and forgot all about it until a few days ago. It’s inspired by “I Love Melvin,” a silly little musical from 1953 starring Debbie Reynolds and Donald O’Connor that employs my favorite trope of all time: the main character’s little sibling bonding with the romantic interest. It’s fun, it’s cute, and I just had to write it. Consider it an apology for all the angst I’ve been throwing your way XD

Warnings: None

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

Spring in Asgard was truly something to behold. The last dredges of winter melted into memory, leaving behind a crispness in the air and a radiance in the land as vibrant life bloomed across the planet. It was a kind of brilliance that one could hardly resist, and so it was no surprise that the palace gardens were alive with activity— novice warriors sparring in the field, strolling couples engaged in lively conversation, giggling children chasing each other through the labyrinth of brick and shrubbery.

It seemed the very universe was mocking him.

Loki held his head in his hands, huddled in a despondent heap at the edge of the garden bench. It was truly amazing how quickly the sweet spring air turned foul. The day had started with such promise, and now …

“Hi your Highness!” Loki jumped when the little girl plopped down next to him without a warning, crumbs spilling into her braids as she munched on a cookie.

He sighed. “Oh, hello Milla.” He couldn’t say he particularly cared for company at the moment, but he couldn’t find the energy to shoo her off.

Milla studied him, chewing intently. “Are you crying?” she asked.

“Of course not!” Loki bristled. Was he now so pathetic that he was garnering the pity of a child? He huffed in indignation.

She patted his arm as if in consolation. “It’s okay to cry, Prince Loki. I cry all the time.”

Norns.

He swallowed the temptation to shove her away and abandon the bench, electing instead to change the subject. “Did Sigyn send you?”

It wouldn’t have been the first time she delegated her little sister to the position of messenger. Perhaps Milla was here with some kind of news, that the whole thing was a misunderstanding and Sigyn wasn’t getting married after all. But deep down, Loki knew that was nothing but wishful thinking. If that were the case, Sigyn would have come herself.

“No,” Milla said, dashing what little hope he had against the brick walkway. “I saw you leaving from my window. You looked sad.” She paused, cocking her head to the side. “Was Sigyn mean to you?”

It was such a childish question that Loki laughed, although there was no humor in the sound. Sigyn didn’t have a mean bone in her body. It was something of which he was in perpetual awe. It didn’t matter how badly her day had gone, how grievously she had been wronged—she always had a kind word or a sweet gesture and an eagerness to help. There was a grace about her, a grace that Loki had never seen from anyone else in court.

The way she had broke the news to him, pushing him into the hallway outside her apartment before he even had the chance to knock … it was cruel, but it wasn’t a cruelty she had chosen. He understood that at least.

Loki heaved another sigh. “It wasn’t her fault.”

For a moment, Milla was quiet. He turned away from her. It seemed he really was that pathetic.

“Sigyn got all upset after you left,” she finally said. “She went running upstairs and hid in her room. Now Daddy’s mad because Prince Sverrir is coming over and she’s not ready.” Sverrir. Loki dug his fingernails into his palms. Milla didn’t seem to notice his tension.

“Do you know Prince Sverrir?” she asked.

Loki grit his teeth. “I’ve met him.” It was astonishing how his opinion of the Vanir Crown Prince had changed from aloof indifference to outright hatred within a matter of words. Loki had known Sverrir since they were both children, when Vanaheim’s royal family had come to Asgard for a few weeks to celebrate the millennial anniversary of the end of the Aesir-Vanir War. He had found him to be tiresome as a boy, a trait that did not improve upon adulthood. Loki had avoided him when he could.

Sverrir had only become relevant to him within the last few years, when after one royal visit he began to express an interest in Sigyn Yngvarrdóttir. At this point, Sigyn and Loki had been seeing each other in secret for quite some time, and while a public courtship was still out of the question, Loki had no intention of allowing the foreign prince to pursue what he already called his own.

The court was appalled when it discovered that Sverrir had been hiring harlots and bringing them into his chambers—his guest chambers, the very rooms in which the Asgardian royal family had so kindly allowed him to stay! His insistence that he had never even interacted with the ladies of the night, let alone allowed one on to palace grounds, fell upon deaf ears and Sverrir was forced to return home to avoid further scandal. Loki remembered watching him cross the Bifrost, with his unnatural posture and his idiotic attempt at regality, certain that they’d seen the last of him.

But now here he was again, back with a few years distance and an ailing father, and suddenly every woman in Asgard was ready to fall at his feet. Which would’ve been fine, except for the fact that he decided upon the only woman who didn’t want him in return.

Loki groaned, rubbing his temples. Besides him, Milla prattled on.

“He’s very dull, isn’t he?” she was saying, brushing the cookie crumbs off the front of her dress. “The last time he came over he just sat in the parlor and talked about how much Sigyn would like Vanaheim. I don’t think she was all that interested. And he kept calling me Mina!” She scowled at the ground, as if Sverrir was there, sitting at her feet, before turning back to Loki. “I like you better. You’re nice to me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Am I?”

“Yeah!” she grinned, tapping his shoulder enthusiastically. “You know my name, at least. And you gave me my good-luck charm!”

She pulled the charm out from under her top, fastened to her neck by thin strip of leather. It was nothing special, just a simple wooden carving of a cat’s head that he had whittled himself during his time serving as diplomat in Alfheim. He didn’t have near the talent for woodworking of the Elven carvers, but he was patient in his practice. By the end of the trip, he had spent hours upon hours working on the carving of a wolf’s head, Sigyn’s favorite animal, to give to her upon his return. Milla’s cat had been something of an afterthought. Still, he hadn’t been able to hide his smile at the way she squealed in delight when he presented it to her, and Sigyn had seemed more touched by the fact that he thought of her sister than at her own gift.

“Has it worked for you?” he asked.

“I think so,” Milla said, running her finger across the cat’s ear. “Good things happen when I wear it.”

Loki laughed bitterly. He could use a bit of that now. “Have good things happened today?”

She didn’t look up. “I’m still waiting to find out.”

A silence fell over the two of them, heavy and stiff. He wondered what Sigyn was doing, if she was still hiding in her room as her sister claimed. She had been waiting for him that morning, ready to push him out into the hall with shaking hands the moment he arrived at her doorstep. He knew immediately that she had been crying—if her swollen eyes weren’t enough of a giveaway, then the little hiccupping gasps that peppered her words certainly were.

“You can’t be here right now,” she had hissed. “If Father sees you, he’ll lose his mind!”

“What happened?”

“Sverrir made an offer for my hand. My father—Loki, he accepted.”

It had taken a moment for those words to sink in. When they had, he had demanded to speak with her father.

“Loki—”

“He can’t do this! He can’t sell you off like cattle—”

Only he could, and they both knew it.

“Prince Loki?” He turned away from his thoughts and back to Milla. She was looking up at him with wide eyes, her voice suddenly very small. “Is Sigyn going to marry Sverrir?”

Loki found he couldn’t answer. There was a threatening lump in the back of his throat, making him unwilling to trust his voice. Sigyn … she was always supposed to marry him. He had been sure of it from the moment he met her, back when they were taking their lessons together. He had pretended to trip when walking by her desk and spilled his potion all over the floor just to have an excuse to talk to her. Thor had rolled his eyes when he heard of it (“could you not just speak to her like a normal person?”), but Sigyn had laughed and offered to help him clean it up, just like the angel she was. And when class ended, he offered to walk her back to her apartment.

Sigyn had smiled, that shy little smile she seemed to reserve for only him. “I’d be honored, my prince.”

Loki was smitten.

And now he was heartbroken.

“You know she doesn’t want to marry him, right?” Milla asked, tugging at his sleeve. “She doesn’t even like him.”

Loki inhaled. “Marriage isn’t just about who you like.” Sigyn had explained this to him just now in the hallway. Her family may have been prestigious in her great-grandfather’s heyday, but a series of poor investments and bad choices had set them on a steady decline. Her marriage to Sverrir would secure their position permanently. Her father would condemn her to a life of loneliness to maintain their status. And Sigyn would accept it, because she was far too good a person to refuse. “You have to think about your future, and your family, and Sverrir is a prince—”

“But you’re a prince too!”

“I don’t have a throne.” Loki sighed. He had never been jealous of Thor’s position as Crown Prince, not really—kingship came with hundreds of little hinderances and headaches that Loki was perfectly content to live without. But if he could stand before Sigyn’s father, not as Odin’s forgotten son but as Asgard’s future ruler … well, he wouldn’t be having to stomach discussion about some Vanir prince, that was for sure.

Milla yanked on his sleeve even harder. “But Sigyn loves you.”                        

Loki’s eyes widened. “She told you that?”

“No.” She said. “But I know she does. She reads your poems every night before she goes to bed.”

He flushed crimson. “Does she?” Oh, those poems. He had never considered himself to be much of a poet, but there was a soft sense of familiarity in words that he had never found anywhere else. And Sigyn … how could one not write about Sigyn?

He never had the courage to read them to her in person, silly, romantic things that they were. Instead he kept to leaving them hidden in spots where only she would find them—wrapped up in her napkin at dinner, buried in her bag at the healing ward, slipped into her dress pocket as they danced. She never said anything about them to him, but he lived for the way she’d squeeze his hand after he passed one to her.

Milla nodded, grinning. “She has them all in a little book, and she keeps it under her pillow.” Loki smiled too at the image, just for a moment, but then reality came crashing back down. She could hold on to as many poems as he could write—it still wouldn’t change anything. He buried his face in his hands once more.

He felt another tug at his sleeve, and he turned to find himself face-to-face with a creased brow. “You love her too, don’t you?” Milla asked. “That’s why you’re so upset.”

Loki huffed. “What I want doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does! It has too!” she insisted, shaking his arm. “You can make it matter.”

“Make it matter?” Suddenly, looking at her there, with her braids and her “good luck” charms and her childish hope was too much to bear. “What would you have me do?” he snapped. “Kidnap your sister?”

Milla flinched. “No … But—”

“There isn’t any ‘but.’ Your father will never allow her to settle for me when there’s a superior option. My father will never care enough to intervene on my behalf.” Norns knew he had tried. But Odin had nothing to gain from a marriage between Loki and Sigyn, and if Odin had nothing to gain, he saw no reason to act. “It’s useless to pretend otherwise. Now are you just going to sit here and bother me all day or do you have somewhere else to be?”

She gulped, abandoning her place besides him on the bench. “I’m sorry, your Highness. I’ll go.” Loki watched her slink off back towards the palace, head down like a whipped pup. Somehow, he felt even worse.

…

Dinner was miserable.

Loki picked at his food out of a sense of courtesy, with no real appetite to be found. How could he eat, when four seats to his right Sverrir was regaling his audience with descriptions of his perfect bride-to-be? The prince hadn’t yet mentioned Sigyn by name, but he didn’t have to. Loki could see the way his gaze lingered on her table as he described her “perfect form.”

It made him sick.

He had still barely touched his meal by the time many of the merrymakers had moved to the dance floor. Sverrir had gone, too—Loki watched him practically slither across the room to Sigyn’s side to ask her for a dance, watched Sigyn’s nearly imperceptible nod in assent. Now, they commanded the whole of the floor, gliding through the steps as flawlessly as a couple could, Sverrir grinning ear to ear and Sigyn the epitome of quiet repose.

Loki wished he could return to his rooms. He didn’t want to sit there, watching his heart spin and twirl in the hands of another man. But he couldn’t seem to rip his gaze away from her. Her sea-blue skirt matched Sverrir’s cape as it twisted about her, giving her the appearance of some sort of oceanic goddess. He wanted to hate the color, but of course it was beautiful on her. Everything was beautiful on her.

“Prince Loki!”

He was startled out of his despondent silence by the child shrieking his name. Loki barely had the chance to turn around before Milla was upon him, grabbing at his arm and trying to pull him to his feet.

He frowned. “What are you doing up here?”

“Come on!” She yanked at his cape. “You have to dance with Sigyn.”

Wary of making a scene, and too flustered to push her away, Loki stood. “Milla, I—”

“You have to,” she insisted, giving him a push towards the dance floor. “Go! Dance with her!”

He stumbled forward, but the little girl kept corralling him down the podium stairs, towards Sigyn and her aggravating prince.

“Milla!” he hissed. “Can’t you see she’s already dancing with someone?”

“Who cares?” she hissed back, shoving him again. “Dance with her!”

And so Loki made his way down to the dance floor, cheeks burning, holding himself with as much dignity as one could after a literal child herded them like a sheep away from their meal. Luckily, few in the the ballroom seemed to be paying him any mind.

One of the positives of being the forgotten son, he supposed.

Sverrir and Sigyn were in the middle of the floor, still wrapped up in the music. At least, Sverrir was. Sigyn was holding herself as if someone had strapped a wooden board down her back. He couldn’t remember a time where he had seen her so tense. The sight made Loki stiffen.

With a sudden burst of confidence, he tapped on the Vanir prince’s shoulder. “Excuse me,” he said, not bothering to hide the tightness in his voice. “Would you mind if I cut in?”

Sverrir started. “Oh. Uh—” he glanced back at Sigyn. “Do you mind, darling?”

She shook her head, features still perfectly neutral. Only then did Loki notice that, while she was wearing blue, the ribbons weaved through her braids were emerald green.

“Oh!” Sverrir seemed surprised, but quickly shook it off. “Well, then, of course not!” He stepped aside, making a grand gesture towards Sigyn as Loki took his place in her arms with a rigid nod.

For a moment, they only stared at each other, slowly swaying to the notes of the waltz in silence. Sigyn looked away first, turning to watch her feet on floor as if she were a girl in pigtails still learning to dance.

Loki swallowed the desert on his tongue. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Well enough, I suppose,” she murmured. When she looked up again, her eyes were glossy, her features twisted in an attempt to hold back the tears. “Loki—I’m sorry.”

There was a lump in the back of his throat. He wished he could hold her to his chest, cup her cheek and promise her that everything was fine. Instead, he only shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I just …” She inhaled. “I wish things were different.”

Don’t we both?

“Is he kind to you at least?” he asked. He would at least be able to rest easier knowing that Sigyn was well cared for, and as irritating as Sverrir was, Loki had never seen anything to suggest that he was cruel. Although … he almost wished Sverrir was a beast of a man—horrible, vicious, barbarous— just so he could have another reason to despise him.

Sigyn shrugged. “He talks a lot.”

“Oh? About what?”

“Absolutely nothing!” she cried. “I’ve never heard of a man who could go on so long without a single thing to say. It makes my head ache.” Sigyn sighed. “But Father finds him interesting.”

Loki scoffed. “Your father would be fascinated by grass growing.”

She laughed. “Probably.”

They danced in silence for a while longer. He liked the silence—the soft, soothing movement was almost enough to make him forget why this night was different from every other he had spent dancing with her. But soon enough, the song came to an end, and he made ready to bid her farewell.

A familiar voice cleared his throat, rasping across the hall. The hum of conversation stopped as everyone turned to face the royal podium, where Prince Sverrir stood, smiling over the masses.

“Ladies and gentleman, if I may have your attention!” he called. “I would like to make an announcement.”

“Here we go,” whispered Sigyn. She reached out to grasp Loki’s hand.

When the crowd thronged around the podium had appeared to reach a size to his liking, Sverrir continued.

“As many of you know,” he said. “My father’s health has been failing for the past several months, and he has voiced that it is his greatest wish to see me married before he passes. Therefore, I am overjoyed to announce my engagement to one of your very own Asgardian ladies—” He stretched his hand out towards Sigyn, grinning widely as the rest of the nobles whipped around to follow his gaze. “The lovely Lady Sigyn Yngvarrdóttir!”

The ballroom erupted into applause. Sigyn sighed, but quickly masked it with a gracious smile, letting go of Loki’s hand in order to make her way to the podium.

To her fiancé.

Loki didn’t even think. When he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to his side, he was acting off pure instinct.

“That’s impossible!” he cried to the crowd, to Sverrir. “Completely impossible, your Highness. She can’t marry you.”

The applause fizzled out as quickly as it begun. Confused whispers began skating through the onlookers.

“Loki!” Sigyn hissed. “What are you doing?”

Above them all, Sverrir frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Prince Loki,” he said. “Lord Yngvarr had given me his permission, and Lady Sigyn has accepted. Why can I not marry her?”

Loki didn’t blink. “Because she’s already married to me.”

The crowd exploded into outraged gasps.

Besides him, a wicked grin was blooming across Sigyn’s face.

Sverrir seemed to have been rendered incapable of response. He stood stuttering on the podium, any words he did manage drowned out by the commotion of the entire court processing what was turning out to be even more of a scandal than the last time the Vanir prince came to visit.

Until finally one voice cut through the chaos.

“Liar!” yelled Yngvarr, pushing his way through the crowd. “My daughter would not betray her family in such a manner.” He turned back to Sverrir, fuming. “Your Highness, I’m afraid Prince Loki seems to be playing a prank, and a decidedly unfunny one at that, at the expense of my daughter’s reputation.”

Loki opened his mouth to protest his offense, but before he could find the words, yet another voice joined the foray of madness.

“It’s not a prank, Daddy!” Milla grinned, materializing seemingly out of thin air to pull at her father’s sleeve. “It’s real! I heard them talking about it a week ago.”

Yngvarr whipped around so quickly that one of his whiskers caught on his shoulder plate. “What?”

“Uh huh,” she nodded. “Prince Loki came through the window! They were talking about how they were going to get married as soon as possible, because they love each other so much and they’re soulmates and … and …” she trailed off, seeming to only just be realizing that every pair of eyes in the ballroom was on her.

“And what?” snapped Yngvarr.

Sigyn stepped forward. “And I’m pregnant!”

The roar was deafening.

She turned back towards Loki with a smirk. He could only gape at her.

“What?” she asked. “Did you think I was going to let you have all the fun?”

Loki didn’t bother trying to find words. He just planted his lips on to hers. “I love you,” he whispered when he pulled away. He had never meant anything more in his life.

She laughed. “What now?”

“Well,” he said, grinning as he offered her his arm. “It seems we have to get married. After that—” he stopped abruptly. There was something in his pocket, something that he knew hadn’t been there before, bulky and solid. Frowning, he pulled it out to find the rough carving of a cat’s head tied to a loop of worn leather.

He looked up again in confusion. His eyes landed on Milla, beaming at him from across the room. She winked.

Good things happen when I wear it.

Loki smiled, slipping the charm back into his pocket. Next to him, Sigyn tugged at his arm.

“After that?” she repeated.

“After that?” he shrugged, smirking. “We improvise.”

[darkpetal16]

Can’t wait until Overlord gets posted!!! I’ve only ever found one fanfic of it I’ve liked and it’s a HP crossover

:)

Character Sheet

Name: Momonga

Title: The Strongest Magic Caster with the Appearance of a Skeleton

Level: 100

Race: Heteromorphic Race; Undead

Job: One of the Almighty 42 Supreme Beings; Ruler of the Great Tomb of Nazarick

Residence: Great Tomb of Nazarick; Room in level 9

Alignment: Extreme Evil; Sense of Justice - 500

Racial Level: Skeletal Mage lvl 15; Elder Lich lvl 10; Overlord lvl 5

Job level: Necromancer lvl 10; Ruler of Death lvl 10; Eclipse lvl 5

Creator: N/A

Personality: Cautious, loyal, avid collector.

.

Name: Lumière

Title: High Priestess of Light

Level: 100

Race: Heteromorphic Race; Angel

Job: One of the Almighty 42 Supreme Beings; Lady of Light

Residence: Great Tomb of Nazarick; The Hidden Tower

Alignment: Extreme Good; Sense of Justice 500

Racial Level: Angel lvl 15; Archangel lvl 10; Seraph Empyrean lvl 5

Job level: Light Priestess lvl 10; High Priestess lvl 10

Creator: N/A

Personality: Demure, loyal, romantic,

.

Name: Albedo

Title: Warm and Caring Devil of Pure White

Level: 100

Race: Heteromorphic Race; Succubus

Job: Great Tomb of Nazarick Overseer

Residence: Throne Hall; and a room in level 9

Alignment: Extreme Evil; Sense of Justice - 500

Racial Level: Imp lvl 10

Job level: Guardian lvl 10; Blackguard lvl 5; Unholy Knight lvl 10; Shield Lord lvl 10

Creator: Tabula Smaragdina

Personality: Loyal, yandere, extremist

.

Name: Jack

Title: The Smiling Ripper

Level: 100

Race: Heteromorphic Race; Undead

Job: Great Tomb of Nazarick Head Researcher

Residence: The Hidden Tower; and a room in level 9

Alignment: Extreme Evil; Sense of Justice - 500

Racial Level: Skeletal Mage lvl 15; Elder Lich lvl 10;

Job level: Necromancer lvl 10; Researcher lvl 10; Assassin lvl 10; Master Assassin lvl 5

Creator: Lucille

Personality: Loyal, yandere, cruel

.

Name: Aura Bella Fiora

Title: Renowned Trainer with an Indomitable Will

Level: 100

Race: Human Race; Dark Elf

Job: Great Tomb of Nazarick 6th Floor Guardian

Residence: 6th Floor Giant Tree

Alignment: Neutral ~ Evil; Sense of Justice - 100

Racial Level: N/A

Job level: Ranger lvl 5; Beast Tamer lvl 5; Shooter lvl 5; Sniper lvl 5; High Tamer lvl 10

.

Name: Mare Bello Fiora

Title: Unreliable Envoy of Nature

Level: 100

Race: Human Race; Dark Elf

Job: Great Tomb of Nazarick 6th Floor Guardian

Residence: 6th Floor Giant Tree

Alignment: Neutral ~ Evil; Sense of Justice - 100

Racial Level: N/A

Job level: Druid lvl 10; High Druid lvl 10; Nature’s Herald lvl 10; Disciple of Disaster lvl 5; Forest Mage lvl 10

.

Name: Cocytus

Title: Ruler of Glaciers

Level: 100

Race: Heteromorphic Race; Vermin Lord

Job: Great Tomb of Nazarick 6th Floor Guardian

Residence: 6th Floor Snowball Earth

Alignment: Neutral; Sense of Justice 50

Racial Level: Insect Fighter lvl 10; Vermin Lord lvl 10

Job level: Sword Saint lvl 10; Asura lvl 5; Knight of Niflheim lvl 5

.

Name: Demiurge

Title: Creator of the Blazing Inferno

Level: 100

Race: Heteromorphic Race; Arch-Devil

Job: Great Tomb of Nazarick 7th Floor Guardian

Residence: 7th Floor Blazing Shrine

Alignment: Extreme Evil; Sense of Justice - 500

Racial Level: Imp lvl 10; Archdevil lvl 5

Job level: Chaos lvl 10; Prince of Darkness lvl 10; Shapeshifter lvl 10

.

Name: Shalltear Bloodfallen

Title: The Bloody Valkyrie

Level: 100

Race: Heteromorphic Race; True Vampire

Job: Great Tomb of Nazarick 1st ~ 3rd Floor Guardian

Residence: 2nd Floor Burial Chambers

Alignment: Great ~ Extreme Evil; Sense of Justice - 450

Racial Level: Vampire lvl 10; True Vampire lvl 10

Job level: Valkyrie / Lance lvl 5; Cursed Knight lvl 5; Cleric lvl 10

.

Name: Pandora’s Actor

Title: Ever Changing Man Without A Face

Level: 100

Race: Heteromorphic Race; Doppelgänger

Job: Great Tomb of Nazarick Treasury Zone Guardian

Residence: Treasury Zone Manager Office

Alignment: Neutral; Sense of Justice - 50

Racial Level: Doppelgänger lvl 15; Greater Doppelgänger lvl 10

Job level: Expert lvl 10; Craftsman lvl 10; Lord of the Castle lvl 15

.

Name: Cheshire

Title: Cackling with Madness

Level: 100

Race: Heteromorphic Race; Fairy

Job: Hidden Tower Guardian

Residence: Hidden Tower

Alignment: Neutral; Sense of Justice - 100

Racial Level: Fairy lvl 15; Trickster lvl 10

Job level: Illusionist lvl 15; Shapeshifter lvl 10; Stalker lvl 10

.

Name: Victim

Title: Sacrificial Fetus

Level: 35

Race: Heteromorphic Race; Angel

Job: Great Tomb of Nazarick 8th Floor Guardian

Residence: 8th Floor Tree of Life (Sephiroth)

Alignment: Neutral; Sense of Justice 1

Racial Level: Angel lvl 10; Archangel lvl 10

Job level: Patriot lvl 1; Saint lvl 4; Martyr lvl 1

.

A Sneak Peek

In the year 2138 AD there was a term: DMMO-RPG. That word was an acronym for “Dive Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game”. It was a revolutionary new way to play games that used virtual reality and nano-technology. Among the myriad DMMO-RPGs that thronged the market, one of them stood head and shoulders above the others: YGGDRASIL.

That game had been painstakingly developed and released twelve years ago, in 2126.

Compared to other DMMO-RPGs of the time, YGGDRASIL’s selling point was player freedom; it had over two thousand basic and advanced job classes.

Every class had a maximum of fifteen levels, and so in order to reach the overall level cap of one hundred, one would need to take at least seven different classes. However, players could take as many classes as they wanted as long as they met each class’s prerequisites. A player could even take a hundred classes at level one each. As such, in that system, it was exceedingly difficult to make identical characters unless one was deliberately trying to do so.

One could use various creator tools (sold separately) to fully customize one’s armor, weaponry, flavor text, appearance, and other cosmetic settings. A vast playing field awaited its players. There were nine worlds in total: Asgard, Alfheim, Vanaheim, Nidavellir, Midgard, Jotunheim, Niflheim, Helheim, and Muspelheim.

In essence, YGGDRASIL boasted a massive world, numerous classes, and freely customizable appearances.

It was inevitable that it would skyrocket in popularity and infinite the muses of millions of creative players.

Of course… that was all in the past now.

.

A gigantic table carved of gleaming black stone sat in the center of a luxurious room, surrounded by forty two chairs. Of all of those chairs, only three were occupied.

One of the seated attendees was clothed in a magnificent black academic robe edged in violet and gold. The collar was excessively gaudy, but it still melded well with the overall design. The person’s head was exposed, revealing a bare skill. Points of dark red lights glowed in its large eye sockets. Behind that skull pulsed a halo of black radiance.

Further down the table was a being that was not human either, merely a mass of black, sticky substance. Its tar-like surface roiled and writhed continuously, never staying in shape for more than second.

At the very end was a person who at a glance could pass as human, if not for the pointed ears and wings at their back. That person wore magnificent priestess robes of silver and blue. Its halo at the back of its head illuminated its long curly white-blonde hair.

The first attendant at the table was an Overlord, the highest-ranked of an undead magic-caster. The second was an Elder Black Ooze, which boasted the most powerful corrosive ability of the slime families. The last was a Seraph Empyrean, the highest-ranked of an angel-raced healer.

One might encounter those monsters in the most difficult of dungeons in YGGDRASIL. Overlords could use powerful curses or spells of the highest tiers of magic; Elder Black Oozes were dreaded for their ability to degrade weapons and armor; and Seraph Empyreans were universally despised when found near bosses.

However, they were not game monsters, but players.

In YGGDRASIL, players could choose their character races from three broad groups: humanoid, demihuman, and heteromorphic.

Humanoids were the basic player type and comprised humans, dwarves, wood elves, and the like. Demihumans tended to be ugly, but possessed superior attributes to humanoids. Examples of demihumans were goblins, beastmen, ogres, and so on. Finally, heteromorphic races had monstrous abilities, but despite their stats being generally higher than those of other races, they also possessed various drawbacks. There were around seven hundred playable races in total, including the advanced versions of those races. Naturally, the Overlord, Seraph Empyrean, and Elder Black Ooze were among the high-tier heteromorphic races that were playable.

The Overlord—who was speaking at the moment—did not move his mouth. That was because even the most advanced DMMO-RPGs of the time still could not overcome the technological hurdle of properly modelling the changes on a character’s face in response to emotions and speech.

He spoke in a jovial tone, “It’s really been a while, Herohero. Although this is the last day of YGGDRASIL, we didn’t expect you to show up.”

The slime wobbled. “Indeed it has, Momonga.” The slime nodded in the direction of the Overlord, then at the angel who nodded back in return. “Lumière.”

“How has work been for you?” asked the angel.

The slime sighed, letting loose a small tirade of complaints. Momonga and Lumière listened patiently as their friend vented.

After about ten minutes, the torrent of words that flowed from Herohero dwindled to a trickle.

“...I’m sorry for making you listen to my whining. I can’t complain much IRL.”

“It’s really no worries,” assured Momonga. “We’re happy you were able to come by at all.”

“Ah. It was so nice to see you both after so long. I was afraid to find no one here.” Herohero’s tentacles waved at both of them. “But it is getting late… How long will you two be on?”

“Until we’re automatically logged out once the servers shut down,” answered Lumière.

“Since it’s still a ways off, we might get more visitors like you,” added Momonga.

“Ah. I hope so. I see you both have taken good care of this place.”

Momonga and Lumière did not respond, neither of them wanting to show the surge of mixed emotions Herohero’s words caused.

There were a few more parting words, but eventually, Herohero left and it was only the two remaining members once again. Momonga sighed again and Lumière spared him a glance. Their expressions could not be relayed through their avatars so she sent him a frowny face instead.

The quiet disappointment was understandable. Their guild, Ainz Ooal Gown, had slowly died out over the years as more and more members left the game. In the past two years only Momonga and Lumière regularly logged on. They had sent emails out to the other members of the guild asking for them to join them on the final day, but unfortunately only Herohero responded.

“I’m going back to the tower,” said Lumière. “Meet up later?”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you in a bit.”

Lumière left after that point, teleporting to the Hidden Tower at the 10th floor of the Great Tomb of Nazarick.

The Great Underground Tomb of Nazarick had once been a six floor dungeon, but it had been dramatically altered after Ainz Ooal Gown took control of it. Currently, it was a ten floor dungeon, and each floor had its own unique theme. The First to Third Floors were modelled after a tomb. The Fourth Floor was an underground lake. The Fifth Floor was a frozen glacier. The Sixth Floor was a rainforest. The Seventh Floor was a sea of magma. The Eighth Floor was a wasteland. And the Ninth and Tenth Floors were the realm of the gods—in other words, the home base of Ainz Ooal Gown, which had ranked among the top ten of YGGDRASIL’s thousands of guilds. In the Tenth Floor there were a few hidden areas, although only one was regularly used—The Hidden Tower.

The entrance was hidden in the Throne Room. It was a tower built by Lumière, Blue Planet, and Amanomahitotsu as a hidden level. Not that it mattered since the only raid that came close to it was stopped in the Throne Room.

The tower had five levels, the first three dedicated as testing areas for Nazarick’s lead Researcher, Jack. The fourth floor was a luxurious library with a big fireplace, and lots of comfy spots to lounge in. At the top of the floor was Lumière’s room.

Upon entering the tower Lumière stopped before the Tower Guardian, Cheshire.

In a game like YGGDRASIL, guilds enjoyed several benefits if they possessed a guild base of castle tier or higher. The NPCs that the Great Underground Tomb of Nazarick could field were undead monsters. These automatically spawning NPCs—or “pop monsters”—had a maximum level of thirty. Even if they were destroyed, after a while they would respawn on their own, at no cost to the guild. However, players could not customize the AI and appearances of these “pop” NPCs. They were hardly useful in deterring intruders, who were universally players.

There was also another type of NPC; the ones designed from the ground up to their makers’ satisfaction. If a guild possessed a castle-grade guild base, the owning guild would be allowed nine hundred levels to be distributed between any number of NPCs they wanted.

Because the highest level in YGGDRASIL was one hundred, by those stipulations, a guild could make seven level one hundred NPCs and four level fifty NPCs, or any combination thereof.

When designing an original NPC, one could customize weaponry and other equipment in addition to clothing and appearances. As a result, one could create NPCs that were far stronger than the automatic spawns and place them in key locations. Of course, not every NPC had to be designed for battle. A certain guild which called themselves the “Kitty Kingdom” fielded no NPCs other than cats or cat-related creatures.

It was a nice guild to visit.

Cheshire was one of those specially crafted NPCs. It was a shapeshifting fairy created by Lumière. Its default form was that of a dark cat with stripes and an eerie smile that showed several rows of sharp teeth. It was heavily inspired by the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland, albeit with a more malicious mindset. It was designed to use “illusions” to trick players when entering such as changing what they see on screen to something else, or swapping what keys did what and so on.

Cheshire always floated down to whoever entered the tower. Its default setting would be to greet whoever came. It had a special message tailored for all the Supreme Beings.

“Welcome back, Mistress!” greeted Cheshire. As Lumière was its creator, she designed it to greet her as mistress, or my dearest lady. She gave the same order to her other creation, Jack.

Jack was stationed at the first floor of the tower. He was near some desks in the lab designed to look like a mad scientist laboratory. Lumière made up his character, leaning into an assassin-lich trope. She almost went with the skeletal appearance, but Bukubukuchagama talked her out of it. Bukubukuchagama bemoaned how there were already plenty of other “scary” monsters in the guild. She tried to bribe Lumière to make Jack a genderswap like her Dark Elves, but Lumière resisted. She compromised as a bishie. Or at least as much of a bishie as an undead could get.

Not that anyone could see it since Jack wore a mask.

That way he could appear as a “scary” monster to befit the evil lab, but in actuality, he was a pretty boy underneath which satisfied Bukubukuchagama. A happy Bukubukuchagama meant free visual novels for Lumière which in turn made for a happy Lumière.

Win-win all around.

Lumière brushed past both of her creations, stepping in to the laboratory and looking around.

Well, it is the last day, she thought as she glanced over at her creations.

“Come with me,” she ordered both of them.

Neither responded, both simply stepping closer to her. Er, well, Jack stepped forward while Cheshire hovered closer. She guided them up the tower to her favorite spot in Nazarick; the cozy little library.

With a wave of her hand she turned the fire place on and took a seat on the lush, red couch in front of it. She let out a slow sigh as she stared at the flickering flames.

[23:55:48]

She hadn’t even realized so much time had passed, she had zoned out watching the flames dance. That had been happening with greater frequency the past couple of weeks. Lumière’s body in reality wasn’t in good condition. It was a struggle to even get out of bed, her lungs slowly filling with fluid each day. She’d need another draining surgery in a month.

Her fatigue caused her mind to drift away, not quite falling asleep but close to.

What will I do when they shut the game down?

It was a question that had occurred to her several times, but she never found an answer. It wasn’t that YGGDRASIL was the only game she ever played--Civilizaiton CXI and Warhammer were nice ways to pass time, but YGGDRASIL was special to her. Ainz Ooal Gown was a place she finally had proper friends.

[23:59:58, 59—]

Lumière closed her eyes. What a shame.

[0:00:00...1,2,3]

?

Lumière knew something was immediately wrong when the first breath she took was not one hampered. She reflexively breathed deeper and found that it did not incite a fit of coughing. Her eyes shot open and she abruptly stood up from her seat.

Even the movement came with ease.

What in the?

[0:00:38]

Lumière twisted her body one way to another, breathing in the scents of--

Scents?! YGGDRASIL couldn’t mimic smells.

But lo and behold Lumière could distinctly smell the fire. It had a odd woodsy scent to it, as if it were scented logs burning inside. Lumière had never gone camping before, nor had she experienced fire first hand in her life. She marveled over the odd smell it emitted, sniffing delicately at it.

I quite like this smell, she thought.

“My dearest lady?”

Lumière twitched in surprise, looking over at Jack. The NPC had approached Lumière, a hand placed over his chest where his heart would have been had he not been undead. Jack, like all of Nazarick’s NPCS, had two default outfits: battle and casual. The battle would originally have only been triggered during a raid, so he currently wore his casual.

Lumière had been pretty huge into Sherlock and anime at the time of his design, so he was heavily inspired by an anime version of Jack the Ripper.

He had a black ulster coat with the collar flipped up. Underneath was a white button up shirt, and black and red suit vest. He had the classic dark white gloves, and black slacks to complete the look.

Oh, and of course the famous top hat. Could never, ever, forget the top hat for someone inspired by Jack the Ripper.

Lumière opened her mouth to say something but rapidly closed it. She placed a hand over her chest, breathing.

I can breathe easy. I have a sense of smell and touch. Is it--did I die?

Isekais were rather popular. Given her sickly body it wouldn’t have been too much of a stretch to say she passed away and had no memory of it.

The end result was still the same: she was in her avatar’s body. A body strengthened by a hundred levels and not plagued by illness or frailty. A smile curled her lips and she said, “Jack, how are you today?”

A question that an NPC could never answer unless specifically programmed for. Lumière had never given such line to Jack which meant that if he answered--

“Lovely now that I can gaze upon you,” he answered, stepping closer.

A surge of embarrassed adrenaline shot through Lumière at his intensely warm tone. Ah, wait--

She had almost forgotten how she programmed Jack’s personality. Leaning into the guild’s theme of “monsters” and “evil” she pushed on with his serial killer design. Cruel, sadistic, obsessive, and dangerously smart. She went all out, using a character design sheet Tabula put together. Lumière wasn’t as inventive or imaginative in the edgy department so she asked Ulbert to help. Ulbert had already made a pretty evil demon, Demiurge, and was delighted to try his hand at an evil undead serial killer.

At the end of the design she, as giggling joke with Peroroncino she added that he was a yandere for her.

Ahahahaha… I’m sure it’ll be okay.

「Message from Momonga」 Lumière?

Uwa! Momonga’s here?

「Message to Momonga」 Momonga! You came here too?

「Message from Momonga」 Came here… you’re really in the game, too?

「Message to Momonga」 It looks like it. I can breathe without trouble.

「Message from Momonga」 Ah. I’m happy for you. I’m going to conduct some tests to make sure I can cast more spells. Do you want to meet up in the arena?

「Message from Momonga」 Yeah, I’ll meet you there.

“Cheshire,” Lumière said, raising her hands up. “Come here.”

The fairy disguised as a monster cat floated over with a wide smiles. “Yes, Mistress?”

She reached out and the monstrous feline leaned into her palm. She felt his fur, his warmth, and beneath it all a heartbeat.

Jack responded with an answer on his own, Cheshire is warm and has a heartbeat, I can move freely… I’m here. This is real. They’re real.

Lumière smiled shyly, taking Cheshire into her arms. He was fluffy and warm. “We’re going to the arena to meet with Momonga.”

“As you wish, my lady,” demurred Jack while Cheshire flicked his tail.

[imagine-loki]

Yes Mistress

TITLE: Yes Mistress CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 22 AUTHOR: angryowlet ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine after a heated argument with Thor, Loki turns himself into a woman out of spite. RATING: Mature/Explicit NOTES/WARNINGS: NSFW, This is a F/F BDSM relationship. If that’s not your cup of tea, don’t drink it. The events in this fic take place before the first Thor movie.

Girl talk, part two. 

Also on AO3

Loki appeared in the shadow of one of the columns that supported the viewing platform of the training grounds. Lady Sif had always sneered at Loki’s mastery of seidr, so a flashy entrance would not be a good start to their conversation. Sif had hated all things womanly since she was a little girl and Loki being a seidmann, an unmanly role if there ever was one, had always counted against him. She wondered for a moment, whether or not her new form would make a difference to Sif?

Loki had been gone from Asgard for so long and changed so much. She didn’t really know what Sif thought of her anymore. They’d barely had a chance to speak before Fandral made his perverted attempt at ‘courting’ and the events that followed.

When she’d sent the note this morning requesting a meeting between the two of them, Loki hadn’t been surprised when the answer came back to meet her at the training grounds. It was Sif’s second home, just as the archive had been Loki’s when they were growing up. She only hoped the lady would feel secure, or possibly over confident enough to talk to her. Loki took a steadying breath and strode out into the open to meet Sif.

“There you are. I wasn’t sure you’d actually come.” Sif said in a slightly cocky voice. She walked closer, coming to a stop at the center of the training circle. Her tone softened slightly as she asked, “How’s the shoulder?”

“Fine. The shoulder wasn’t the problem so much as the broken collarbone and the lung below it.” Loki said as she came closer.

Sif made a face at that. She had broken her own once, a long time ago.

Loki remembered.

It was during a hunt. One of the first times they’d been allowed to go out hunting on their own. Sif had stupidly charged a boar they had spotted along the treeline, goaded into it by Thor and The Idiots Three. The tip of the spear she’d held couched in her arm slipped and caught on a tree trunk when the boar suddenly broke to the right. Sif couldn’t turn or release her weapon in time to avoid the hit. It had shattered. Half of it snapped back to catch her in the gap between her breastplate and spaulder.

She’d been unhorsed and landed flat on her back, much to everyone’s amusement. Everyone but Loki. He’d been the first to go to her aid and had seen her face. By the time the others got over their laughter to come help, Sif had schooled her features. She’d managed to hide unshed tears behind a mask, a lip bitten bloody with a smile. Loki helped her to secure her arm before the two had ridden slowly back to the palace in silence. Thor and the others had remained behind to finish the hunt. Loki had stayed with Sif and pretended not to see the shame in her eyes when she told the healers, and later her parents, what had happened. She had avoided him for a fortnight after that. He didn’t hold it against her.

Asgard did not look kindly on weakness, and Sif could not afford to fail. She’d had to work twice as hard as any man to prove herself a warrior. Loki knew what it was like, not to fit inside the body you’d been born into. But unlike Sif, he could do something about it.

And she had.

“Where’s your armor? With Egil?”

The sound of Sif’s voice snapped Loki back to the present. She stopped just out of arms reach of Sif and nodded.

“He’s designing a new set for me. It did it’s job well, but the heat from Thor’s strike melted some of the plates and damaged the under layers as well.” She shrugged, “It’s really not worth salvaging.”

Sif gestured to a rack of staves at the edge of the circle, “Something without an edge then? Or would you prefer target practice?”

Loki considered for a moment. She was quite good with a quarterstaff, it had been part of her daily agility training on Alfheim. She’d found a weapons master willing to work with her and was now well versed in all forms of elven combat. Her build, strength, and speed were closer to that of the Elves anyway, especially in this form.

“It’s been some time since I’ve seen you with a staff.” Loki remarked as she walked towards the rack. In fact, she couldn’t remember ever seeing Sif wielding anything but a sword and small shield. Loki selected one and tested the balance. She went back to the center of the circle to stretch and make a few practice moves as Sif made her own choice. She was just walking over with it as Loki spoke again.

“Before we begin, I know you spoke to the Allfather and Fandral’s parents on my behalf. You have my gratitude.”

Sif paused her own stretching and gave Loki an unreadable look before speaking.

“None of the others saw what Fandral did to you. It is my duty to tell my king the truth when it is asked of me.”

Sif’s tone was one of nonchalance, but Loki noted how tightly her hands gripped the staff. She couldn’t tell if the lady was upset at Fandral’s actions or at her own sense of honor forcing her to tattle on her friend.

Loki moved into a relaxed fighting stance and waited for Sif to make the first move. It didn’t take long. An obvious feint to the left had Loki blocking her strike to the right. Thrust. Block. Retreat. It was a dance Loki knew well and she slipped into its familiar patterns without thought. Her mind was free to observe her opponent.

Sif was good. Better than Loki had expected.

“You’ve been practicing.” Loki jumped and rolled to avoid a blow and gain some distance from Sif’s advance.

“Not bad yourself.” Sif was grinning. She had a beautiful smile and her face had a radiance to it that was quite spectacular. Loki spared a thought to what an idiot her brother was for not seeing what was before him. Then Sif advanced again.

Their sparing was starting to draw a handful of spectators. Loki caught the flash of a red beard from the corner of her eye and knew Volstagg was one of them. Loki doubted he knew anything, but she couldn’t be sure of it. He may have noticed something without knowing what it meant. With Thor gone, this may be her only chance to make allies of his friends. Perhaps she could encourage them all to go for a drink after the match?

The jolt down her arm from blocking a particularly hard blow from Sif brought Loki’s attention back to the lady. They had both worked up a sweat, and the heat of the day was starting to take it’s toll on Loki.

Better to end this quickly, she thought, but it must be with a draw.

If she lost, Sif would think even less of her than she did now. And if Loki won, Sif would accuse her of using her seidr to cheat with the same result. Spying an opening, Loki managed to maneuver her staff in such a way as to make Sif trip over her own feet. As she went down, Sif struck out at Loki, who 'failed’ to block her blow and hit the ground as well.

“Enough?” Loki asked as they both lay panting in the dirt. The small crowd was applauding their efforts. Sif nodded and moved to get to her feet. Loki did the same. Volstagg ambled over to them as their audience dispersed.

“I see the rumors were true,” he addressed Loki. “Studying wasn’t all you got up to on Alfheim.” Volstagg chuckled.

“Surely this wasn’t the sort of activity the rumors are referring to.” Loki smirked and brushed the dust from her clothes. She looked him over with an assessing eye.

Volstagg hadn’t been present for Thor’s outburst the day before.

The Warriors Three had become The Warriors Two for the last few months. Volstagg was the oldest member of their group and he’d been the first to wed. His wife Hildegund had delivered a healthy baby boy just after midwinter and Volstagg had thrown himself into fatherhood wholeheartedly. Loki had only seen him once since returning from Alfheim, and then only in passing.

“It’s good to see you again Volstagg. Do you have to get back, or do you have time for a drink or two?” Loki reached out and clasped forearms with the bearded man.

“Careful Loki. He’ll talk your ear off with the feats of Alaric the Great. Tell me, is the mighty warrior sitting up on his own yet?” Sif teased. She took Loki’s quarterstaff and returned it to the rack with her own.

A grin split Volstagg’s face. “He’s nearly mastered it. Hilde’s gone to show him off to her mother and sister for a few days. She seems to think I’m too distracted by him to train properly. Bah! Though I will admit,” he rubbed his leather clad belly and shifted, “my armor’s been fitting a little tightly of late.”

Volstagg had always been a wall of a man. Not fat so much as solid. Though now, he did seem a little larger in the middle than Loki remembered.

“I finally come to train with everyone only to discover Thor and Hogun are gone to Vanaheim and Fandral in the Healing Rooms. I hear you were the one to put him there.” Volstagg turned back to Loki. “May I ask what occurred or is it a private matter?”

“Now that,” Loki placed a hand on his shoulder, “we will definitely need mead to discuss. Will you come too Sif?” She put her other hand to her head. “Everything gets a little muddled after Thor hit me with Mjolnir.”

“What’s this?” Volstagg looked stunned.

“Tis true.” Sif sighed. “Come. If this strange tale is to be told, it is best done with a drink in hand.”

______________________________________________________________________

The three of them went to a favored tavern in the heart of the city. They took a table in the back corner of the room and once again Loki used her spell of silence to make sure they were undisturbed. She told Volstagg of Fandral’s actions followed by Thor’s. Sif filled them both in on what happened after Loki left.

“…and Hogun tended to Fandral until the healers could arrive–”

“Hogun? Since when has he been skilled in healing?” Loki interrupted.

“Since your departure to Alfheim.” Volstagg answered. “It became obvious to some,” he looked pointedly at Sif, “that we would be more vulnerable without your seidr to aid us in battle. He’s not exactly a healer himself, but Hogun has learned enough to patch up any small injuries we might incur assisting the realm.”

Loki mulled over this new information while Sif continued.

“After you disappeared, Thor’s rage evaporated. The storm broke then. I’ve never seen such a look on his face before. It was as if he’d woken from a dream and was only just realized what he’d done. He dropped Mjolnir and looked at his hands. They were shaking. The summons from the Allfather came and we went in to see him. I don’t know how he knew–”

“Mother’s handmaiden was passing the training yard and saw the whole thing.” Loki said absently. “But what puzzles me is why he struck at all? Ever since I returned home I’ve become a beacon for his anger. I can count on one hand the number of civil words he’s spoken to me in the last month. True, we’d not been close for some time before I left, but it was never like this. What has changed? Mother said he told Father it was something to do with a woman, but I don’t know what that means. Does Thor have anyone he’s been favoring lately?”

Sif and Volstagg looked at each other before shaking their heads.

“I cannot think of any he’s paying particular attention to… Although there was that blonde last summer. She lasted quite a while, but I know he’s moved on from her. Can you think of anyone Volstagg?” Sif asked.

“No one comes to mind. Though where women are concerned, you’d best speak with Fandral. He’d be the one to–” Volstagg blushed as he broke off.

“–know which wench my brother is fucking.” Loki finished.

She heaved out a sigh.

“If there even is a wench. This could all be some ploy to upset the realm using Thor as the means. Sowing discontent and suspicion in the house of Odin has long been a favored pass time of Asgard’s enemies. Nearly all the Nine know father has marked Thor out as his successor. Showing him to be unstable as a future ruler will undermine the Allfather and weaken his position. How can he maintain the realms if he can’t even control his son? It’s,” Loki paused and blew out a breath, “it’s what I’d do if I wanted to take the throne.” She frowned into her cup before taking another drink.

“Come now Loki,” cajoled Volstagg. “You’ve always had a suspicious mind, but this is bordering on paranoia.”

“Possibly.” She granted the idea had merit. “Perhaps I’m delving too much into my own future role.” Loki noted the looks on their faces, “Have you not heard? The Lord Chancellor plans to retire in a few years. The Allfather is having me groomed for the position. Soon I’ll be spending most of my time in the archives digging through property rights and memorizing tax laws.”

“That is an honor indeed, though I do not envy you. Daily meetings with the Lords and their lackeys, foreign ambassadors, the trade guilds alone– Norns! Give me a raging bilgesnipe any day.” Sif laughed.

Loki groaned and refilled her cup from the ewer of mead on the table.

Volstagg clapped Loki on the shoulder. “I think it will suit you well. Nothing escapes your notice, however small. No one will dare to cheat or steal under your watch.”

“If that is so, why can I not see what has so disturbed Thor?” she grumbled into her cup.

“That is simple. Whatever the cause, it must have started before your return or you would have noticed it.” Volstagg said.

Loki turned her head and blinked at the man a few times before saying, “That’s it! That’s the key. If we can work out when the changes started, down to a time or at least the day, we should be able to determine the cause. Friends, I am in need of you.”

“What’s this? Has Muspelheim frozen?” Sif jested.

“Ha. Will you help me, yea or nay?”

“Of course we will. What would you have us do?” Volstagg asked.

Loki set down her cup and refilled theirs as she outlined a plan for them to follow.

“We must be subtle. Go about your normal routines but keep your guard up. Listen to gossip in the marketplace, and the chatter of servants and stable grooms. Have they noticed anything out of the ordinary? Have there been any strangers that have come in the last month or more? I propose we divide up our forces so we don’t waste time covering the same ground. I need to contain myself to the palace for the time being, but my handmaiden is already making inquiries amongst the servants there. I’ll speak to my parents again when I dine with them tonight.”

“Sif, I’d like you to take the training grounds. No one would find your presence there suspicious. Talk to the Einherjar, the pages, the weapons masters. Volstagg, I know your time is limited but I would like you to visit the taverns in the city that Thor favors. Gossip with the barkeeps and the serving girls. I’ll send coins and Fandral to you tomorrow so you need not sully your honor or your wife’s cavorting with the hóras.”

“Fandral?” Volstagg looked shocked.

“Fandral.” Loki said firmly. “My next task will be gaining his help. I’ll stop by the Healing Rooms before I go to my parents. He will assist us or I’ll give him something worse than a cracked head to worry about.” Her smile could only be described as viscous.

“Then we’ll leave you to it.” Sif’s smile was not any nicer than Loki’s.

His actions, Loki thought. Sif doesn’t like what Fandral did any more than I do. I wonder if he’s dared to do the same to her? If so, how did he manage to live through it?

The three of them drained their cups and Loki threw some coins on the table as they rose to leave.

Loki added, “I should be in the archives nearly all of tomorrow. Come find me there if you uncover anything of importance.” They both nodded to her.

Once through the doorway of the tavern, they went their separate ways. Sif to the training grounds. Volstagg to the tavern in the next street.

Loki made her way to the healing rooms, smiling wolfishly in anticipation.

Two down, two more to go.