“Odin might have hung himself from Yggdrasil to gain knowledge of the runes, but I mastered them and gave seidr to the world.
Some things only a woman can do.”
—Freya - Asgard Historical Record Volume 4
We spent the better part of the afternoon debating the ethics of thieving and developing a baseline for which of us had what knowledge of seidr. As a whole, seidr was many things: divination, healing, warding, elemental, psychological. My estimation of Loki had been more or less correct; he was very nearly my opposite in abilities. Everything he knew was flashy, impressive, or deadly. He expressed a disinterest in anything medicinal or protective and dismissed my offer to teach him something in return, stating only that he’d already earned his title.
When the pilfered food was gone and our legs were tired of sitting, we rolled up the wolf pelt and returned to the centre of the city. It would be nearly time for supper, and Loki was chomping at the bit to get to Valhalla. He’d been greedily listing everything he planned to eat during the entire walk.
Supper was already well underway when we arrived. The hall stretched out before us, the rafters made of spears, the roof built from shields, and the walls featuring more doors than could be counted. Tables filled the hall as far as the eye could see, packed with rowdy warriors. No matter how many arrived, there would be room for everyone, the hall stretching to accommodate its occupants. The benefits of building a place with seidr.
The einherjar were eating, laughing, and arm wrestling all through the hall, filling the room with a welcoming pandemonium. They were Odin’s warriors, the humans of Midgard who had died bravely and been chosen to serve in his army. There were people of all shapes and sizes, young and old, and of all complexions. Anyone who had proven themselves worthy. One day they would fight for their god during Ragnarok, but for now they spent their days training until it was time to drink.
Loki and I headed toward the high table at the end of the room. It stretched across the width of the room with a long row of seats behind it, each one meant for a god. More than half the gods were missing; it was rare for them to be in Valhalla all at once, but their seat was there regardless. Odin sat at the centre, his wife Frigg next to him. The rest sat next to whomever they pleased, and, given my present company, I wondered who would be pleased to sit with me.
Worry gnawed at my stomach as I stepped onto the platform, but Loki was clearly feeling differently. “Hello, old friends! I’ve come home! Aren’t you happy to see me?”
The table grew silent, all eyes moving in our direction. I froze like a spooked deer. Something thumped against the table, and a chair scraped against the floor. Thor stood, his face grim underneath the red-blonde of his beard. Every piece of his body was broad and muscular. He was still covered in dust and scrapes from whatever he’d been fighting that day, his hair tied back in an unkempt tail. When he stepped toward us, I moved out of the way, having no desire to get between anything and Thor’s fist.
“Loki, you old dog. How have you been?” Thor pulled the Jotun in for one of his bone-crushing hugs. Loki squeaked in discomfort, and Thor loosened his grip.
I started breathing again.
With a cough and a brush of his shoulder, Loki slung his arm around Thor’s neck. “Exiled. Didn’t you know? Or are you still suffering from air between your ears?”
Thor howled a laugh. “Oh, I’ve missed your jokes, you mongrel. Come on, sit next to me, and let me pour you a drink. I want to hear all about your adventures.” Thor whisked him off to the other side of the table.
No one else moved to greet him.
I took my normal seat next to Idunn, letting my body sink into the cushions like a sigh. Idunn leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek. “I hope you aren’t tired already,” she said, selecting portions of roast boar, baked root vegetables, and seed bread, and setting them on my plate.
I didn’t argue, just leaned my face into my palms, exhausted, and told her about the scene Loki had made at the market.
Idunn just smiled. “No one said it would be easy.”
“It doesn’t need to be easy,” I groaned, picking at my supper. “but he’s…”
“Chaotic?”
“Exactly.”
An arm appeared between us, setting two horns of mead on the table. I smiled up at the woman and thanked her. She nodded in return, the swan wings on her back rustling. She was one of the Valkyrie, another staple of Valhalla. Each woman was stunning in her own way and entirely deadly. They were dressed in white gowns that draped over their battle-hardened bodies, their hard-earned scars peeking from beneath the fabric. Sometimes it was hard not to stare.
“Loki tends to test people’s limits,” Idunn said, drawing my attention back. “Some people handle that better than others. Did I ever tell you about when I first came to Asgard?”
I looked up. She was still busy with her plate, pulling and cutting things into smaller pieces. She didn’t look at me, and I knew she wouldn’t; Idunn didn’t like talking about sad things.
“A little. You told me that it was hard for you. Fitting in.”
“It was.” She slipped a piece of roast boar between her lips and took her time chewing it. “I didn’t know that Bragi was a son of Odin when I met him. He was kind and beautiful, full of poetry. Not like the rest of your half-brothers. I was in love so quickly that when he did tell me, it was already too late. I would’ve followed him anywhere.”
Her cheeks were pink, a smile on her lips, like every time she talked about her husband. But the smile faded. “I didn’t know a single other soul when I arrived. Everything was loud and violent, and I didn’t belong here. Nothing was mine, nothing except Bragi. A few days after I arrived, I got upset and ran out of Valhalla crying. And Loki was late coming to supper. I nearly knocked him over. He took me by the shoulders and said, ‘What in the nine could be wrong with the woman made of sunshine?’ I’ll never forget that.
“Afterward, he made time for me. Talked with me during meals and brought me seeds for my garden when he went travelling. When Bragi was on the road, bringing poetry to the people, Loki would keep me company. He was my first friend in Asgard.”
I hesitated to ask. “Were you two… involved?”
“Hmm?” She looked up, puzzled, then less so. “Oh, no, he’s just a friend.” She paused for a moment. “Loki is a strange creature. He’s kind to those who show him kindness, when his spite and pride don’t get in the way. Just… give him a chance to show that part of himself.”
Well then.
We talked casually for the better part of an hour while the hall slowly emptied out. Every time I looked up, the room seemed to shrink a little more until there were only a few straggling tables of warriors left.
As was tradition, the gods took their drinks down to one of the empty tables so they could talk amongst themselves face to face. Thor and Loki were the first, and a few others trickled down after. Odin and Frigg were quick to leave Valhalla entirely. Idunn and I sat together, and I found myself across from Freya, who looked just as unimpressed with me as she had earlier in the day.
The last to arrive at the table was Hod, another of my many brothers. His walking staff clicked on the floor as he approached, feeling his way towards us. His chestnut hair was cropped short and swept to the side, his skin a pale pink. A blue wool sweater hung loose and open over his tunic, despite the summer weather. Hod was always cold.
Loki jumped up from his seat at the end of the bench. “Hello, you. You’re as dapper as ever.”
Hod tilted his head, staring in the direction of Loki’s voice with cloudy blue eyes. “Loki Laufeyjarson. I knew they couldn’t keep you away.”
“And you haven’t lost your knack for voices. Come and sit.” Loki took Hod by the elbow and directed him to the now-empty seat. When Hod was settled, Loki leaned against the tabletop rather than sit somewhere else.
Sif was eyeing him from across the table, discomfort written on her face. Distress bubbled in my stomach as Loki took notice and stared right back. When she said nothing, Loki brushed his hand through the length of his hair. “I know, I’m entranced by these beautiful locks as well. I could give you tips if you like. Yours seems to have lost some of its shine.”
Immediately, her cheeks went red and she retreated back into her long, wavy mass of golden-blonde hair—the hair proclaimed as the most beautiful in all the realms—as if they were a set of drapes to hide behind.
Loki grinned and turned his attention back to Hod and Thor, slipping into conversation with the skill of a practised socialite.
Meanwhile, Freya was still glaring at me.
I sighed. “How long will you keep this up?”
“Until you find some way to undo this.” Freya pointed at Loki. “No one wants him here.”
I leaned toward her. “You don’t want him here. You’ve got an awfully big grudge against him for stealing your necklace. But that’s not all it’s about, is it? You think he’s argr.”
She sneered, confirming my suspicions. “He is. There’s never been any question about that.”
“He’s a male völva, not a pussing boil.” I waved in his direction. “Why should he be forbidden to practice seidr?”
Freya prodded the tabletop with her finger. “Some things aren’t up for discussion. Seidr is for women. It’s built into the history of mothers and daughters and sisters, and I did that on purpose. Men have enough in these realms that’s just for them, so we made something extraordinary out of woman’s work. Would you give a man a loom and ask him to weave a new fate with seidr? No, of course not. A man doing a woman’s work is not a man, he’s argr. And what about the parts of divination that aren’t just about blood magic? Using sex to reach a higher consciousness and see the future? Those acts would make a woman out of him.”
I rolled my eyes. “Have you heard of The Horn and Stag, the brothel down near the Smith quarter? It has a thriving market of men looking for other men. There are male völur popping up all over the realms. This obsession these realms have with maintaining masculinity is appalling. Things are changing. You can’t stop it.”
She only stared at me.
Like divine intervention, I heard my name. Loki was staring in my direction, still perched on the edge of the table. “They want to know what I’m teaching you!”
I opened my mouth to answer, but Freya was ahead of me. “How to become a deviant, one assumes.”
“Freya,” Idunn said her name like a song. “Why don’t we go for a walk? Talk about this.”
Freya sat up straight, bracing her hands on the table. “No, I don’t think so. You’re not going to convince me to forgive his ways, no matter how good a peacemaker you are.”
Loki pouted. “My ways? Whatever could you mean?” Sauntering around to Freya’s side of the table, Loki slid his fingers across the wood like a caress, finding his way up the arm of Thor, who looked thoroughly confused. He ruffled Thor’s hair, and as he drew closer to Freya, every muscle in her body grew rigid. He never touched her, just leaned towards her ear and whispered, “I could tell you such stories.”
Freya leapt out of her seat, fist wound back to strike him, but Loki had already pranced backward, out of reach. His hands were up, palms out, an innocent smile on his face. “Don’t be so jumpy! You’ll scare someone.”
I stood and leaned across the table, eyes on Loki. “Are you finished?”
Freya was breathing as if her head would pop off her shoulders, like she was one wrong move from going for her knife.
Loki just tilted his head and grinned. “Of course, Siggy. That’s all I needed.” He winked at Freya. “Besides, there are other souls to say hello to.” Then he turned and headed towards a group of einherjar a few tables away, taking very confident strides for a dead man.
Sif was pulling at Freya’s sleeve. “Sit down. You can’t let him bother you like that; it’s only going to encourage him.”
“I don’t know why you ladies despise Loki so much.” Thor leaned on his elbows. “I think he’s funny.”
Sif glared at her husband. “He wasn’t so funny when he was taking you off to all sorts of places and getting you into trouble. It’s been calm since he’s been gone.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Hod piped up. “You’ve spent plenty of time fighting amongst yourselves since he left. He gave you a common enemy, that’s all.”
Something in the corner of my vision caught my attention. A brown and white cat was padding towards our table. Its fur was thick around its entire body, white streaking down from its mane and onto its belly.
“Look,” I said to Idunn. She followed my gaze and squealed in delight. Holding out her hand, she waited for the cat to sniff her skin and approve of her. It did, of course, pressing its head into her palm. Then it hopped up onto the table.
The others ooed and aahed appropriately, but the cat seemed to have its sights on Idunn and I. Idunn scratched behind its ears for a moment until it wriggled loose and sat down in front of me. Its mewing was so adorable that I cupped its face in my hands and planted kisses all over its head.
On the other side of the table, Freya’s foul mood shifted. “Come here darling, let me look at you.” She tapped her fingers on the table, trying to lure the cat away.
The cat scooted backwards, out of my reach. It winked with one emerald eye before turning to the noise.
Something itched at the back of my mind. Cats didn’t wink, and certainly not on purpose.
“Oh, aren’t you glorious?” Freya’s hands were deep in its fur, scratching and petting, eliciting deep purrs from the wild cat. “You look just like my Astrid, yes you do.” She pulled the cat onto her lap and held it to her chest, sighing like a woman thoroughly pleased. “Why aren’t there more cats in Valhalla? This is much better than putting up with that horrible man.”
Sif reached over and stole a touch, the cat leaning into her hand. “A head full of lice would be better than Loki.” The cat stretched out its front paws onto Sif’s lap and kneaded its claws into her dress before Sif shrieked and pushed it away.
I turned to try and catch a glimpse of the table Loki had been heading towards, but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere.
I looked back at the cat. Its green eyes said it was very pleased with itself.
Himself.
“You’ll need to learn to get along with Loki,” Hod said. “Unless Odin changes his mind and throws him out, he’s going to be here a very long time.”
“Three weeks!” Freya pulled the cat away from Sif’s dress. “He has three weeks to prove himself useful, and then I get to toss him out of the realm for the last time. Yggdrasil above, I hope I can.”
I’d been keeping my eyes on the cat, but the comment left a bad taste in my mouth. “Ah yes, please sit here and tell me how much you want me to fail.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” The cat was pawing at her chest, trying to get more of her attention.
“But that’s what’ll happen. I need his help, and you want to take that from me.”
“You do not need him.” Freya could barely keep the cat under control. “You would’ve been fine without him. Odin would’ve eventually—” She was cut off as the cat turned round and presented its bottom dangerously close to her face.
Freya screeched in frustration and picked up the cat. She plopped it onto its bum on her lap. “What is wrong with you?”
The air around the cat shifted, colour and space changing and distorting until I couldn’t stand to look anymore. I blinked, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. The air popped, and Freya screamed. Sitting on her lap was Loki, legs crossed, the biggest grin on his face. Once a shapeshifter...
“What? Don’t you want to cuddle?” He threw his head back and howled with laughter.
He wasn’t the only one. Thor was laughing from his gut, trying to explain the stunt to Hod between each gasping breath. Idunn was giggling behind her hand while Sif screamed about the mangled state of her dress.
A smile crept onto my lips, pleased at this tiny moment of revenge. Loki caught my eyes and grinned back, and I froze. I’d kissed that cat’s head. Oh, gods.
Having no choice but to touch him, Freya pushed Loki backward, knocking him onto the table. He was still laughing uncontrollably as she pulled the knife from her belt and drew it back above her head.
A hand was on her wrist before any of us could react. One of the Valkyrie had come from behind her. Alruna. Her chiselled face was neutral, the picture of cool strength. One braid hung over her shoulder, every hair pulled away from her face, leaving her severe, intimidating. All this wrapped into soft, flowing white fabric. Her vivid blue eyes were locked on Freya, and my breath caught. Alruna didn’t play games; it was part of what I had loved about her.
“I expect this from the einherjar, but not from you.” Alruna said this mere inches from Freya’s face. “If you’re going to kill each other, at least have the decency to do it away from where we eat. My people have enough work around here.”
“Get your hands off me.” Freya yanked back her arm and looked towards the table. The embarrassment started to creep onto her face. Her eyes locked on mine, and then back to Alruna. “That makes sense. You two may not be sleeping together anymore, but you’ll always be idiots for each other.” She rubbed at her wrist for a moment, composed herself, and stormed off toward the door. Sif wasn’t long stumbling after her.
I stood and went to Alruna. “Thank you for that. Things got...a little out of hand.”
Alruna leaned in, an old familiarity in the way she did it. “Between you and I, it was hilarious. But I don’t want to spend tonight wiping Jotnar off the floor.” She gave me a smile then left me with the others.
When I turned back, Loki was rolling himself rightside-up on the table. He sat where he was and looked around. “Alright, who wants a drink?”