“The staff have been questioned and punishments doled out, but the bottle of 140-year-old Elven Sapphire is still missing. Odin’s going to have my fucking head.”
—Valhalla Record of Inventory
Loki and I met the next morning, as usual. But this time we didn’t set out to teach or be taught. Instead, we sat under the shade of Yggdrasil, drinking Elven strawberry wine and telling scathing jokes about the state of Odin’s beard. It was strange at first, to just sit and be with each other, but the wine helped.
I’d barely slept. I’d spent the night alone, sitting against the headboard and clawing the depths of my mind for some kind of purpose. It felt useless to read or study, but I didn’t know how to do anything else. I tried to imagine myself as a traveller, an emissary, a thief. None of the things came close to the future I’d wanted. None of the possibilities kept me from crying myself to sleep.
So this was good. The sun was shining, the wine made me feel light, and there was company for my misery. Whatever Loki was, good or bad—or something else entirely—he knew his way around a good story and a drink.
But by noon the wine was empty. Loki stood up and reached out a hand to help me. “Come on. I’m not ready to sober up.”
I slumped back into the grass, holding myself up by my elbows. “I don’t want to go anywhere. I’m sure Idunn has something to drink in her cabin.”
“Ah, but what she won’t have is the 140-year-old bottle of Elven Sapphire that Odin keeps in the cellar of Valhalla.”
I sprang to attention. “Oh no. I’m not going to Valhalla. I can’t see my family. Everyone will know by now and I just…I can’t.”
He crouched down in front of me. “No one says you have to. I’ll steal the bottle, and you get something to eat from the hall, and we’ll disappear into the gardens like a pair of crafty rats. Come on, you deserve a little fun.”
I did, didn’t I? I’d clearly spent too much time focused on one thing. As heartbroken as I was, there was a small part of me that revelled in the idea of giving up, the freedom of it. So what if it was spiteful to raid the cellar and drink Odin’s wine? I felt spiteful.
I pulled myself off the grass, brushed off my skirt, and let him lead the way to my father’s wine. As promised, Loki disappeared down one of the corridors leading off of Valhalla, and by the time, I’d gathered a tray full of appetizing morsels from the empty kitchens, he was back. There was a suspicious bulge under his shirt, but he was carrying on as casually as if it were a normal extension of his body.
We left through the opposite side of Valhalla, a door which led out into the garden. A wall of sprawling green bushes and trees divided it from the rest of the city. Flowers bloomed among the greenery, brought in from all corners of the nine realms. Fiery red vilanis from Vanaheim, crawling crimson farenum vines from deep in Svartalfheim, sunset plumeria blossoms from Midgard. A sandy path ran from Valhalla down to the stone fountain at the furthest point and back again.
We settled ourselves in front of the fountain, spreading out our stolen loot. Above us, a looming gold statue of a Valkyrie rose from the water, her wings outstretched as she pulled a fallen warrior from the depths.
Loki pulled the wax seal from the bottle of wine and sniffed at the opening. His eyes lit up. He passed it to me. It smelled pure, light, like if sunlight glimmering on the blue of a lake had a smell. I tipped the bottle to my lips. The taste was impossible to place, airy and fresh. Something only Elves could make and only the lucky could afford.
We passed the bottle back and forth, chatting over our patchwork lunch, lying conspiratorially in the grass, telling stories as easily as if we had been doing it for years. It wasn’t until we heard a lilting song at the other end of the garden that we came back to the world.
I sat up, peeking over the bushes that lay between us and whoever had arrived. It was Sif. She had a basket slung over one arm, a pair of shears in the other hand. She sang as she combed through the flowers, holding one out, snipping the stem, and placing it in the basket with the rest. Her hair, that precious waterfall of blonde locks that she valued more than anything in the world, flowed along with her every movement, and I felt compelled to run my fingers through it. It probably felt like silk.
Loki cracked his knuckles.
“No. Please, don’t cause any trouble.” I put my hand on his arm, trying to push him back onto the grass.
“But she’s such an easy mark.” He pouted.
I started to argue with him, but the wine had already gone to my head, and I was suddenly very sure that I didn’t give a fuck. What was the point of staying out of trouble anyways? I flopped back into the grass and waved a hand noncommittally. He flashed one of those grins and leapt up, sneaking past the brush toward Sif.
I could see everything from my vantage point behind the bush, my body hidden away. As he snuck up behind her, I languished in the grass, not quite feeling like I was inside my own skin. It was some damn good wine. The grass was cool, and the sun was warm, and Yggdrasil Above, my heart hurt so badly when no one was around to distract me. The silence felt like an eternity. I didn’t want to think about what I’d lost. I wanted Loki to make me laugh until I forgot again.
Sif didn’t notice Loki, not even when he was practically breathing down her neck. He leaned in next to her ear and bleated like a sheep. She screamed, nearly jumped out of her skin, and dropped all her carefully cut flowers into the grass. I smiled a little despite myself.
Then she slapped him.
I scraped myself off the ground and shuffled over, a sinking feeling brewing in my gut. This would not end well.
“That was a dirty trick, and you’re a complete imbecile.” There were tears in her eyes; she really had gotten a scare.
“So you’re afraid of sheep now, are you? Life must be so difficult for you with Thor’s pet goats around.” Loki shoved his thumbs into the loop of his belt, a smug look on his face.
“I am not afraid of sheep! I’m afraid of wild Jotnar half-breeds sneaking up on me in the garden!”
I stepped between them. “Please don’t. It’s a beautiful day, and it was all just a joke. Can we make peace and move along?”
She turned her steely eyes on me. “If you hadn’t brought him back, none of us would have to worry about him at all.”
I sighed, the largest part of me wanting to find a quiet place to lie down while they finished their spat. “Frigg was the one who decided he should stay, not me. If you’re so opposed, you should take it up with her.”
Sif picked up her basket and held it against her chest like a shield. “You know he used to get Thor into all sorts of trouble, don’t you? Taking him on these long journeys around the realms. I was never sure if he’d come back in one piece or if he’d come home at all. Things have been quiet, but now that he’s back—”
I held up my hand, confused. “So you were only worried about Thor when Loki was around? How many times has Thor gone off alone to fight something three times his size?”
“Sigyn.” She said my name the way a parent might patiently talk to a disruptive child. “You weren’t here. You can’t understand. Trouble is part of his blood.”
“Is it?” Something in Loki changed then. He straightened out, tense and ready for something. “Do tell.”
“It is.” She wiped a stray tear from her cheek and squared her shoulders like it might lend her some credence, her eyes locked on Loki’s. “Your people have never been our friends. Everyone knows the Jotnar will come for us at Ragnarok. It’s part of the prophecy. When Laufey ran off to Jotunheim and brought back a half-breed baby and your ice-blooded father, we gave her the benefit of the doubt. But we shouldn’t have. You’ve caused nothing but trouble since. Your mother was naive and dim-witted, and it was her own fault she died!”
Loki’s lips moved, a split-second reaction. A rune, a breath. And then Sif crumpled to the ground before my eyes. Her legs had given out beneath her. She was sprawled out on her chest among her flowers, her impossibly long hair fanning out like a sunlight blanket.
I stood there uselessly, too addled by the drink. I waited for something to happen that would tell me what kinds of runes he’d used.
She began to snore.
Loki stared down at her sleeping body, his chest heaving with each breath, his teeth ground together in a snarl. It was a patient anger, one forced down and tempered from practice. After a dozen deep breaths, he crouched down, gathered all of Sif’s hair into one hand, pulled the knife from his belt, and sheared the whole bundle off.
The moment that followed was one of the longest in my life. Loki opened his hand and let the wind take the mass of hair from his palm. Strands untangled and tumbled in every direction. They caught on every bush and branch. Gold scattered across the grass like straw after the harvest. It blew into the fountain, hooking itself on the corners of the bronze Valkyrie. It was everywhere.
He stood, brushing his hands together to get rid of the last strands. And Sif slept on, her hair cropped and jagged like wheat stalks.
All at once, the panic set in. My heart racing, my breaths coming short and quick. The wine was losing its hold on me, everything suddenly too real. And Loki was just standing there, staring at Sif.
I pushed him. He startled out of his quiet and snapped at me. “What?”
“What have you done? Thor’s going to hunt you down and kill you!”
“Let him try.” He brushed off the front of his tunic, where some of Sif’s hair had gotten caught.
I grabbed him by the chin, forcing him to look at me. “He will beat you to death with his bare hands.”
He pried my hand away. “I was his friend longer than you’ve been his sister. I know he will.”
“Yggdrasil shade us,” I mumbled, both a curse and a prayer. I looked around. No one in sight. I grabbed him by the arm, trying to pull him along. “Come on.”
“Why?”
I stopped and faced him, jabbing my finger against his chest. “Because she was right; it’s my fault you’re here, and I’m not going to let you get us both killed.”
He pursed his lips, thinking about it for a moment, then begrudgingly shrugged.
I pulled off my cloak and slung it over his shoulders. It was too short, but it would cover the evidence long enough to get him back to his room.
As we rounded the corner into the hall, I looked back. If it weren’t for the angle of her body, it might almost look like Sif was taking a nap.