“Loki’s always had a taste for pranks, but this one went too far. To cut off Sif’s hair just for fun—what kind of monster does something like that?”
—Frey - Godly Endeavours
My bones rattled, waking me from a dead sleep. The long, droning blow of the Gjallarhorn was loud enough to seep through the walls, but it didn’t need to. Every god could feel it, no matter how far away. A summons. Someday, it would blow and signal the end of everything, but not today.
My stomach curdled like old goat’s milk. I already knew what it meant.
Loki had put on a fresh tunic and was leaning against the mantle, eyes on me. I stared at him, catching my breath, the vibration still under my skin. He must have felt it too, but he looked so composed. After a century in exile, he’d probably gotten used to ignoring it.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d slept or how I’d ended up in Loki’s bed. The fire was dead in the hearth, only embers and ash remaining. My mouth tasted like smoke, and I was parched, my head wringing with sobriety.
“I’m sorry I got you involved in this,” he said at last.
I hesitated. I believed that he meant it, just the same as I believed he would do it again in a heartbeat. So I gave him a nod. There was nothing to say.
I crawled out from under the furs and went to the mirror. I brushed back the bed-mussed tangle of curls in my hair and tried to wipe away the smudges of kohl around my eyes. In the reflection, Loki was staring across the room at nothing, his thoughts a thousand miles away.
◦ ● ◦
There were only a handful of gods present when we arrived in Gladsheim. Odin was in his high seat. The twelve council seats were empty, and the few gods that had shown up stood at the bottom of the dais, chattering to each other. Freya and Frey were whispering back and forth, thick as thieves. Idunn was with Bragi—he must have just come home from Midgard—and they were smiling too broadly.
They didn’t know yet.
I walked over, my hands clasped together so they wouldn’t shake, willing myself to act normal. Everything I did felt fake, like my smile was enough to give us away. And Loki, he just…was. How could he be so calm?
Bragi reached out and shook Loki’s hand, confident and pleasant as always. “Idunn told me, but I didn’t believe her. Welcome home, old friend.”
Bragi always looked a little tired around the edges when he came home, but he cleaned up nicely. His coarse black hair was kept in thick locks which he’d tied back, and his beard was immaculately brushed, silver bobbles woven through it. His mother was Elven, and he had their umber skin and their penchant for poetry. The only thing Odin passed on to him was his sharp blue eyes. Lucky him.
Loki gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Where were you this time? Get lost in a troll cave?”
“Erual,” Bragi cursed in Elven, laughing. “That was once, and I’ll never hear the end of it. I was in Midgard, but it was time to come home. I had somewhere more important to be.” He put his arm around Idunn’s waist, and her smile was bright enough to light the room.
“What’s the matter with him?” Idunn whispered, pointing to the far corner of the dais. Thor was sitting with his head in his hands, every muscle coiled like he could barely contain his rage.
“Who knows?” Loki waved it off. “Probably lost a fight or something. Your brother never has been a good loser, has he?”
He was looking at me, nudging me for a sign of life.
“No. He hasn’t.”
Odin slammed his fist down on the arm of his throne, and I nearly jumped out of my own skin. All eyes went to him.
“There’s been a crime,” Odin bellowed, his anger echoing from the walls of the chamber. “And someone will pay dearly for it. Sif, step forward. Let them see.”
The Allfather waved a hand, and Sif stepped from the shadows behind his throne. Her head was bound with a shawl. She was trying to remain composed, but her grief was thinly veiled as she removed the shawl and exposed her mangled scalp. Shock spread on the voices in the room, and it was enough for Sif’s resolve to crumble. She broke down into tears, her shoulders shaking with each sob.
Satisfied with the display, Odin spoke again. “Sif has already told me who it was. Are you going to come forward, or are you determined to be a coward about this?”
“Yes,” Thor growled, standing up. “Admit that you attacked my wife so I can give you what you deserve. No one, no one insults us like this and gets away with it.” Both of his fists were clenched, skin white around his knuckles.
No one spoke, no one moved. Of course they didn’t. Because it was us.
Loki took a sweeping bow, staring up at him. “You could’ve just come to my room and beat me to death in private, but you’ve always got to go for the dramatic, don’t you Hangi?”
There was a scoff. Freya. “As if it could be anyone but you. At least you’ll prove me right.”
“So you admit it?” Odin leaned forward in his seat.
Loki shrugged, looking up at Sif. “She knows who she insulted, don’t you, sweetheart? Maybe in the future, you’ll mind your manners.”
Thor screamed, moving towards Loki with his fist wound back to strike.
My reaction was instant; I’d seen this play out a thousand times before with a thousand other targets. I let a rune slip from my tongue, and a barrier shimmered into being just as Thor struck. His hand collided with it, and he recoiled, teeth gritted against the pain.
“Sigyn, don’t get in my way.”
The venom in his voice… Thor had been angry a lot over the years, but never at me.
Loki hadn’t flinched. He just snickered, tilting his head a little. “Why? Are you afraid you won’t be a match for her?”
“A man doesn’t need a woman to fight for him,” Thor snapped. “Frey. Get her out of my way.”
Frey knew enough to clasp his hand over my mouth when he grabbed me. Without the ability to whisper, my seidr was useless. The barrier fell. He pulled me back, away from Loki and Thor. I struggled against him, my scream muffled by his skin, but he refused to let me go.
“Don’t make this worse than it already is,” he said. “Please.”
Thor’s eyes stayed on me. “How could you help him do something like this? You, of all people.”
I wanted to defend myself, but I had no voice. I hadn’t done anything. And why was no one interested in what Sif had done?
Thor turned on Loki, who was mid-whisper, but he wasn’t fast enough. Thor hit him, and the strength of the blow sent Loki flying backwards. He collided into the floor and slid back until he came to a crashing halt against the wall. There was already blood. Then Thor was on top of him, striking him again and again.
Thor would kill him.
I bit down on Frey’s hand. He hissed and pulled it away, and I elbowed him in the gut. As he hit the ground, I bolted forward, runes on my lips. The air stirred around me, and I swept my hand sideways, the air whipping up to toss Thor across the room like a ragdoll. He struck the dais, and something cracked.
The hall was in an uproar. Someone was crying; Bragi, Odin, and Freya were screaming at each other. But none of that mattered. I knelt next to Loki and pushed back the bile in my throat. His skin was purple and swollen, his hair painted with the blood from his face.
“Hello, darling.” He coughed, wincing from the pain. “Come here often?” Too self-assured, as usual.
I heard Thor before I saw him, running toward us, hel-bent on finishing what he started.
“Thor, enough!”
The command halted my brother in his tracks. His chest was heaving, his clothing spattered with Loki’s blood. His whole body twitched, wanting to move, but Odin’s word was law.
Odin stood and made his way down the steps, heading toward us as leisurely as he could. I put myself between them, trying to shield Loki from whatever was coming next. My hands were raised, ready to fight.
But Odin stopped at my feet. “You’ve insulted Sif and, by extension, her husband. If you want to live to see another day, you’ll fix what you’ve done.”
Loki spat, blood splattering onto the floor. He laughed. “And here I thought we were friends.”
“How dare you!” Thor moved towards us, his feet slamming into the stone with each step.
“Don’t come any closer!” I summoned a burst of wildfire in front of him, and he reeled back, checking his face for his eyebrows.
“Enough!” Odin waved a hand at Thor, but he came anyway, straight for me. As quick as a breath, Thor lifted me from the ground by the collar of my dress and held me up for the room to see. Some of them yelled for him to stop, but it was Loki who was most desperate.
“Alright! She didn’t do anything, you giant oaf!” He struggled to get up and failed, blood seeping out over his lips and dripping to the floor. “Get your hands off her, and I’ll fix it. Just put her down.”
My brother stared at me, teeth grinding together. There was nothing there but rage. All those years of violence he’d laid out across the realms, and he’d never laid a hand on me. My collar was biting into my neck, and my head felt like it would pop clean off, but I wasn’t going to beg.
And then he put me down.
I fell to my knees, fear making my legs weak. Loki slid himself closer, nursing his side. His hand landed on mine, staining my skin with blood.
Odin turned to the others. “If Loki can’t find a way to restore Sif’s hair by the new moon, then it’s within Thor’s rights to take his life.” He looked at me. “And you, daughter of mine…you’ll go with him, since you’ve so aptly promised to keep him ‘under control.’ Consider yourselves lucky you’re not already dead.”
Odin turned, the others parting to let him through. He ascended the stairs again and sat back in his throne. Freya was the first to follow him, and then Frey.
Thor didn’t look at anyone, just gathered up Sif and left.
With the danger subsided, Bragi let go of Idunn’s arm, and she ran to us. She was crying, wiping tears away and choking out words with her sobs.
“Oh, Loki.” She took his free hand.
“What?” He wheezed as he caught his breath. “Aren’t I handsome?”
But I saw the look on Bragi’s face. The friendly demeanour that had been there before was gone. Because he knew what I knew; Idunn would forgive anything, but Loki had proven he was capable of more than just a trick.
“Help me get him up.” I stumbled to my feet. Idunn and I took Loki underneath his arms and pulled. He cried out but managed to stand. His eyes were swelling into bulging purple bulbs, and his nose sat crooked on his face, dripping blood down his lips. When I pushed him to walk, he leaned on me, nursing his left leg. He moved slowly, gritting his teeth against the pain. But the strained sound of my name on his breath was what drove the knife into my chest.
“Let’s get him to the infirmary.” Idunn shifted under his weight.
“No. Stay here; I’ve got him.” She gave me a sharp, hurt look, but she backed away. She meant well, but the truth was, wherever she followed, Bragi would come too. And I couldn’t bear the judgement in his eyes.
◦ ● ◦
It took forever to get Loki to his chambers. We shambled down the corridors, past startled visitors and staff, shock on their faces and scandal in their whispers. Maybe I could’ve fixed him in Gladsheim, but there were too many people gawking, too much worry about turning my back to them. I needed to concentrate.
I fished the keys out of the pouch on his belt, struggling to hold his weight and unlock the door at the same time. I kicked the door open and pushed us through. Loki collapsed onto the bed with a pained hiss, and I slammed the door shut.
“I don’t suppose you have anything for healing?” I asked, knowing he absolutely wouldn’t. His answer came as a stilted chuckle. “Alright then. The bare minimum it is.”
I went to the bed and used a knife to cut his tunic off. I found exactly what I thought I would: a dark patchwork of bruises pooled across his lean chest. Likely a broken bone or two, and something was bleeding.
“Sigyn—” He coughed, cutting the words from his mouth.
I hushed him. “Shut up. I’ll mend what I can, but first I need to set your nose.” He nodded and gripped the bedsheets as I bent over him. I jammed the corner of one of his pillows into his mouth, and he bit down. Without the tools I’d normally use, I’d have to rely on my fingers and seidr to put everything right. The bridge of his nose was off centre, and when I applied a bit of pressure, it realigned. Loki clenched his teeth into the pillow. He was crying.
It was a horrible sight, watching him like that. Guilt bubbled in my stomach; I had to hurt him to heal him, but it didn’t make it any easier. I put my hand on his, and he grabbed hold, squeezing so hard I had to bite back the urge to pull free.
I gathered my focus. The longer I waited, the more pain he would be in. If my time in the infirmary had taught me anything, it was that these injuries were going to take more energy to heal than I had in me. But I would do it anyways.
As the pain of his nose subsided, I stole my hand back. Holding both of them over his chest, I started to whisper a complicated string of runes. In a perfect world, I’d have poultice and rune ink and more strength, but I didn’t. I set my mind on the repetition of the runes, willing them to stop the bleeding, to put everything back where it belonged. I persisted, whispering long after my mouth had dried out and my legs started to shake from exhaustion. Then finally, something shifted under his skin, and he screamed so loud I thought my ears might bleed. More of the bruises disappeared with each passing moment, the crack in his lip and the bulge of his eyes mending and softening.
He wasn’t healed, not yet. But it was all I could give. He’d stopped crying, and he was out of trouble, but there were still patterns under his skin and swelling in his face. It would have to wait. Any further and I’d end up with rune fatigue.
I pulled my hands away from his skin, now nearly snow-white again, and finally stopped whispering. “That’s all I can do for now.”
“Well. I guess it’ll have to be enough.” A smirk settled onto his lips, but it was gone quickly. He was blinking to stay awake.
I forced myself to keep moving and went to the bedside table, where a fresh bowl of water and a washcloth lay, one of the many perks of living in a hall full of dutiful staff. I brought them to the bed and sat at Loki’s side. I wrung out the cloth and gently ran it across his forehead. His eyes were closed, something peaceful falling over him as I washed away the leftover blood.
As I cleaned his neck and his chest, the bowl turned a deeper and deeper pink. I fought back the urge to lecture him. I could remind him how stupid he’d been and how close he’d come to his own death, but his breathing was settling into the deep, drawn-out rhythm of sleep. So instead, I finished my work, pulled the furs up over him, stole his keys, and slipped out.
I locked the door behind me. For his safety and everyone else’s.