Every city has a beat, a pulse. This one was erratic and infrequent, and she briefly wondered if she should just put it out of its misery. The chants and the cheering were out of synch from the clip-clop of hooves, of the way her heart pounded against her chest. In her ears.
Odds had always been against Asgard. Their army had not equated to half of Vanaheim’s, yet here they found themselves. Her and two of her sisters. Prisoners amongst enemies, under the guise that they were ‘guests’ in this realm. Odin had manipulated her father quite well. She thought, then, about how she should have hid when her mother had begged her to. Alfheim would have been beautiful near this time. Hindsight was always crystal clear and there as nothing more that Sigyn could do.
In the distance before the procession, this young princess could barely see the city. Of course the great palace would always be within eyesight, rising so high that it appeared as if it would split the cosmos in two, but nothing else was brilliantly visible. The crowds were to massive, and nothing could reverse the feeling that was constricting her soul. It even hurt to breathe.
As the chariot approached Odin’s great hall, he could be seen standing above them all, on a balcony that one could see most of Asgard from. 'Of course,' she thought as she held her head high in defiance. Never would she pretend to be grateful for this. 'Hide away in your gilded palace while your men parade about.' This entire show was unnecessary. It was a way to show the three Vanirian princesses off to the Asgardians. It made her entirely sick to her stomach.
[reblogging a while later. feel free to message me if you want to, about back story about where this all came from)