“And Freya, benevolent and understanding, gave Loki the falcon cloak without hesitation. ‘I would give it to you even if it were made of solid gold.’”
—Asgard Historical Record, Volume 15
“So what are we going to do?”
Loki had just finished telling the room of assembled gods what he had seen, though he’d left out some of the more obscene things that had occurred between him and Freya. Or perhaps they were still coming.
Odin had his head in his hands, elbows leaning on his knees. It reminded me of the times I’d gotten in trouble when I was young; he just didn’t have the patience for such childish endeavours.
“Asgard hasn’t always been my home, but I’ve helped build this place as much as any of you.” Freya’s arms were crossed over her chest, defiance written on her face. “I won’t be married off like some shepherd’s daughter to settle a debt. And even though it doesn’t much matter to you, I already have a husband.”
Necks craned to look around the room. Baldur said what everyone else was thinking. “Has anyone seen Od?” The question was met with silence. “I guess not.”
“I’m not doing it.” Freya sat back in her chair, balancing one ankle on the other knee, and watched us.
“Then the question is what we can do about this.” Odin scratched at his beard. “You’re a room full of gods; one of you has to have an idea.”
Baldur spoke first. “We could propose a different trade.”
Loki shook his head. “I don’t think he’s the type to barter. They somehow got inside Valhalla without anyone noticing, waited until Thor let down his guard, and walked right out of Asgard with the damned thing. He knows how valuable it is. If we give him a counteroffer, he might escalate the problem.”
“Can’t we find the hammer ourselves?” Thor asked.
“If the Jotun is telling the truth, we can’t. He says it’s buried deep underground. If we assume it’s in Jotunheim, which it most certainly is, it could be anywhere. The border is thawed, but after that, you’re talking about an endless stretch of ice and mountains. We’d never find it.” Loki’s brow was furrowed, and he was restless, something I rarely saw in him. This puzzle was bothering him.
“I might have a solution.”
Heimdall. He rarely came down from his home next to the rainbow bridge, and when he did, it was usually to assist with something dire. My brother had changed very little since I’d seen him last, his long hair braided with gold beads and tied back behind his head, his beard trimmed into a tidy patch on his chin. A massive sword was strapped to one side of his hip, and the Gjallarhorn, engraved with runes, hung from the other.
“Thor, once the hammer was back in your hands, you could kill Thrym, correct?”
“Of course!” Thor puffed up, a picture of ego.
“Then you’ll need to go to Jotunheim and get it back.” Heimdall gestured with his hands as he spoke. “Go in place of Freya. Convince Thrym to give Mjolnir to you, then strike him dead.”
Thor dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “If he’s smart enough to steal the hammer, he’ll never put it near me. How could I convince him to do something that stupid?”
A smile cracked the lips of the ever-serious Heimdall. “He’ll have no idea that you’re there, because you’ll be disguised as the bride.”
“What? No.” Thor’s eyes widened, and he took a step back. “Disguise me as Freya? No. I won’t go riding about the nine realms dressed like a woman. You’re insane! I’d never hear the end of it!”
Loki clapped his hand on Thor’s shoulder. “You know, I make it a point not to agree with Heimdall. Part of my moral code, really. But it’s a good plan. I mean, it’s just a dress.”
“No! It’s not just a dress! It’s the things people will say! You know how stories travel. I’m a warrior, not some argr völva like you! I’ll have no respect after this.”
Loki’s eyes narrowed, clearly bristling at the word argr, but he tried to reassure Thor anyway. “You’re protector of Midgard, the people will hardly—”
“They will.” Thor glared at him. “They will, and you know it. You of all people.”
“You have seen Thor, right?” I gestured at him. “He looks like a bear. It’s never going to work.”
“You’ll make it work.” Odin walked down the steps. “We need Mjolnir back, and trying to storm an ice keep in the middle of the mountains isn’t going to accomplish that. Loki, I assume you’ll be accompanying him, since you’re somewhat of an expert.”
The silence was horrifying. Loki didn’t laugh, didn’t say anything snide in return. He just painted on a smile, his teeth like knives. “Of course. The expert. I’d love that.”
“It’s settled then. The two of you—”
“I’m going too,” I cut in.
Odin’s single eye landed on me with enough scorn that you’d think I’d pulled the wings off one of his ravens. “And why would you need to go along?”
“If you want Thor to pass for a woman, don’t you think it would help to have a woman along for the journey? Surely with Loki and I there, Thor stands a better chance than he does alone.”
Loki’s smile softened, his shoulders relaxing. “It would be strange for a goddess of such renown to be married off with only one handmaid to help her.” He shrugged. “Realistically, you can give Sigyn permission to come, or I can let Thor go alone. Dealer’s choice.”
Odin’s eye narrowed. That threat wasn’t going to earn us any favours in the future. “Fine. Have word sent to Thrym and see that the provisions are prepared. You’ll leave in the morning.” He gave Thor a firm pat on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear before leaving the hall.
“By the Nornir,” Thor groaned. “I can’t believe it’s come to this. Can’t you do something? Use your seidr to change my face, so no one will know it’s me?”
Loki slid his arm into mine and led us past Thor. “No, I’m afraid not. I have my own shape to change; I can’t be responsible for yours as well. Besides, why would I do that when I could watch them call you argr for once?” Loki laughed and left Thor to wallow in self-pity.
◦ ● ◦
The fire in the kitchen hearth crackled to life, lavender flame snapping at the air. I looked over my shoulder as Loki kicked his boots off. He’d barely spoken on the way home, and something sour had settled into his features.
“Are you alright?”
Loki let out a breath. “Nothing new, Sig.”
“That’s not what I asked.” I took his face in my hand and checked the cuts Freya had carved into his cheek. They were minor, and they’d stopped bleeding a while ago. I put my fingers near the wounds and started whispering.
He held still to let me work. “I’m fine. Just…tired. Flying across the nine will do that.”
With the small cuts closed, I licked my thumb and wiped away the last of the crusted blood. “You know you can talk to me, don’t you?”
He leaned his head against my palm. “Of course I do. Just…not right now, please.”
The urge to fix his problems was eating at me, but I wasn’t going to push. “Do you think the disguise will be enough to fool Thrym?”
“It’s possible, but Thor will still be a boar in a dress, no matter how much makeup we put on him.” He kissed my cheek and walked away.
I went to the table and leaned on it, watching as he stretched his muscles. “And you? You said you’re going to shapeshift. You’ve hinted at changing your looks before, but will it be difficult? Is it only a glamour?”
He looked up, something curious in his eyes. “I could show you.”
“If you’re tired—”
“I’m sure I’ll manage.” He smirked, then made a series of flashy movements with his hands, unnecessary showmanship to add dramatic flair to the moment. His lips moved in complicated runes that I quickly lost track of. My vision crackled and distorted. A moment later it cleared and standing in his place was a woman.
She wore his tunic and his trousers, but underneath the fabric were new curves. Her hair hung around her in the same waterfall of flame over her chest, but her eyes were lined in fresh, thick charcoal, alight with familiar mischief. Her lips were fuller but still marred with thin silver scars. Her cheeks and jawline were softer. She reached out a hand to touch me, her long, slender fingers grazing the skin of my cheek.
“Amazing,” I breathed. But that wasn’t even the beginning of it. She was stunning, and I was dumbstruck.
“Am I convincing?” Her voice was distinctly more feminine but still as smokey and entrancing as Loki’s. She struck a pose.
“You look real.” I reached out to touch her. She was solid under my fingers. She tilted my head up with a single finger, drawing closer, pressing her body against mine. My heart raced. Every movement she made belonged to Loki, beautiful and dangerous.
“Because I am. It’s not a glamour; I’m a woman, inside and out.” Her lips brushed the words against mine.
I nodded. I clasped the back of her head in my hand and held her in place for a long kiss. Her tongue flitted against my lip, and my breath hitched.
Her lips stretched into a grin, pleased. “Do you want to try?”
I slid my hand up her neck to pull her in for more. Satisfied with my approval, she grasped my thighs and hoisted me up. I hooked my legs around her hips as she sat me on the table, bending me, running her tongue up the length of my neck, heat rising in me. My hands ran over her new shape, up under her tunic, exploring, drawing a long breath from her. Our hands kept working, knots loosening, fabric falling away.
Piece by intimate piece.