“And Loki, who so often gave the gods bad council, trembled under their wrath. He swore to fix the matter, whatever it cost him.”
—Asgard Historical Record, Volume 16
My neck ached when I woke up. I blinked the sleep from my eyes, trying to stretch the discomfort from my joints. My book was open to the page I’d fallen asleep on, and Loki’s side of the bed was still made, more or less. The sun was peeking in through the window. He must have decided not to wake me. I pulled myself out of bed and went to look for him.
But he wasn’t there. Not in the study, or the kitchen, or curled up in his old bed.
It was still early. Things didn’t always go to plan. I reminded myself of that over and over as I stomped around the house, waiting and sweeping the floor, waiting and slamming cups onto shelves, waiting and resting my poor legs. Every sound had me checking the door, watching the windows. But Loki never appeared.
Enough was enough. I’d lived with the anxious thrum under my skin as long as I was able. I pulled on my shoes and cloak and made my way to the entrance of the city’s new wall. My legs wouldn’t carry me as fast as I wanted them to, and it added a layer of annoyance to my already overwhelming rage and worry. Forget that everyone nearby was watching me waddle bowlegged across the city as if I had a sign strung around my neck that read ‘Sigyn: Victim of Pregnancy.’
As I approached the edge of the city, the wall loomed over me, taller than three men and entirely complete except for a handful of stones that lay next to the archway. Odin, Frey, and Thor were there, talking to the builder. By the look on his face, the discussion wasn’t going well for him.
“The wall’s been built!” he cried, pointing to the stones. “Those are all that’s left! You have everything you wanted, and you’ll still go back on our deal?”
“It’s not finished.” Odin shrugged. “Leave. Your plan to take advantage of Asgard has failed, and you’ll get nothing from us.”
“Take advantage of you? My horse ran off all of a sudden, just as we were about to put in the last stones! It reeks of dishonesty, Hangi. What did you do to him?”
“The discipline of your horse has nothing to do with us.” Thor stepped forward, Mjolnir grasped tightly in his hands. “One less Jotun in the realms is no skin off my back.”
“To Hel with you all!” The builder sprung at Odin, but before he could reach him, Thor brought Mjolnir down onto his head. His head cracked like an egg, the sound of collapsing bone enough to make my stomach lurch. Blood and brain sprayed in all directions, covering grass and god alike. The builder’s body slumped over, the remnants of his head sunken into the space between his shoulders.
“Well.” Odin nodded, wiping the mess from his sleeve. “I suppose that puts an end to our problem.”
“Yours perhaps, but not mine.” I strode towards them, one hand on my stomach, careful not to slip in the puddles of brain matter. “Loki left yesterday to deal with this and hasn’t come back. Where is he?”
Odin stared at me. “How would I know?”
“When I was 15 and snuck out to meet a boy, you knew. When I was 20 and got too drunk in Vanaheim, an entire realm away, you knew. You mean to tell me you haven’t been keeping your eye on Loki over something as crucial as this? Forgive me, but I smell bullshit.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “If he doesn’t turn up soon, I’m going to mount both your heads on pikes right next to this stupid wall.”
Frey and Thor began to snicker behind their hands. Even Odin smiled, despite the fact that it would probably crack his stupid stone face.
Condescending shits.
Frey put a hand on my shoulder. “No one’s seen Loki. Maybe it’s best you go back home. We wouldn’t want you to strain yourself, for the baby’s sake.”
I pushed his hand away. “I’m fine, and if you won’t help me, I’ll find someone who will.” I turned and started toward the city.
“I wouldn’t want to be him when he gets back!” Thor cackled. I gritted my teeth and pressed on, their laughter boiling my blood.
Two days I waited for Loki to come home. Two days of asking every soul in the city if they’d seen him, but no one had. Two days during which I tossed and turned, unable to sleep, guilt and worry gnawing at my insides.
Where was he?
What had happened to him?
Was he dead?
I fought with myself, springing back and forth between my anger at him and the dread that somehow it had been something I’d done. Hoping that he would just come home. But in the end, I was forced to swallow my pride and turn to the one person I wanted least to bend my knees to.
“I didn’t think you’d have the balls to set foot here again.”
Freya was seated on the floor with a dozen other völur, everyone in the room as naked as the day they were born. Their bodies were painted in sharp patterns, red cutting across their cheeks and chests and along the length of their arms. I’d burst in on divination practice.
I cleared my throat. “Neither did I. But I need to speak to you.”
She stayed put a moment, her legs crossed under her, reluctant to get up. But at last, she did. She motioned for the others to stay put and slipped a dressing gown over herself. I stepped back out into the hallway and let her sweep past me.
Freya closed the door and looked me over. I knew what she saw. The circles under my eyes from staying awake for days, waiting for the sound of his boots on my front step. The weathered clothing I’d worn for days and nights as I paced the floor, watching out the windows. A soon-to-be mother who was falling apart at the seams.
“I’ve seen corpses that look better than you.”
I pursed my lips and nodded, pushing back the urge to snap at her. “Neither of us wants to be here, so let me cut to the chase. I know you’ve heard Loki is missing. I need to find him.”
Freya laughed. “You expect me to help you find that snake? Why would I do that? If he’s run off back to the mountains, we should all count ourselves lucky.”
I put my hands to my chest, gripping at my heart. “Please, Freya. What am I supposed to do? I can’t have this child not knowing if he’s alive or dead.”
“Maybe that child would be better off.” She stared me down.
“I don’t care that you don’t understand. I am begging you. Help me find him. Help my child have a father.” The words broke the dam of tears I’d been holding back. I threw my hands over my face and sobbed, too exhausted to do anything but grieve.
The hatred slipped from her face, and she started to reach out, then stopped, her fingers curling back into her palm. She watched me for a moment as I tried to push back my tears, regain some of my dignity. At last, she spoke. “And what do you expect me to do?”
I wiped my face in my sleeve. “Divine a location. Find him. Tell me he’s alive, at the very least.”
Freya huffed, arms crossed over her chest. She made me wait, but at last she pushed the door open. She swept back into the room, commanding the attention of her students. “You’re all dismissed. Take your robes and go. Work on what you learned today and be ready to try again tomorrow.”
The women scrambled to gather their things and left one by one. When the room was clear, Freya let her robe fall and sat down. She picked up the blade from the ground next to her and held it out to me. “You know how this works.”
I did. Divination required sacrifice. It was blood seidr, life in return for knowledge. I sat down across from her. “How much?”
She shrugged, dipping a cloth into a bowl of clean water. She set about clearing the last session’s blood from her skin. “A proper cut. Or are you too cowardly?”
I did it quickly, if only to spite her. The blade bit into my finger, and the blood seeped up onto my skin, trailing down into my palm and pooling there. I hated divination, I really, truly did.
Freya set a small brass bowl at my feet, and I let the blood drip into it. My body hadn’t appreciated being opened up and my head was light, but I was hardly going to show it.
“Good.” She handed me a cloth to stem the bleeding. Without a moment’s hesitation, she took the bowl and dipped her fingers in. She closed her eyes and traced over the perfectly symmetrical patterns on her body, patterns she would have practised time and time again over the decades. The lines stretched across her collar bones, down the lengths of her arms and the curves of her face. As she drew, she chanted runes under her breath.
I could only watch and try to be patient. The waiting was excruciating. I tried not to be too hopeful. Loki could’ve been anywhere. Something could have killed him. His body might have been half-rotten in a pit somewhere, for all I knew. As I pressed the cloth to my palm, I whispered my own runes to heal the wound, if only to distract myself for a moment. And then, almost abruptly, she was finished.
Freya’s eyes blinked open, her pupils shrinking back to normal. Wherever she had been, it took her a moment to come back. I knew better than to press her for answers, no matter how badly I wanted them.
She moaned and leaned forward, massaging her temples. “Sadly,” she said, stretching out, “he’s not dead.”
I inhaled sharply, a hysterical laugh escaping me. “Oh, thank the Nornir! I—I thought he—” I choked, sobbing into my hands out of sheer relief. “Where is he?”
“The Nornir were, in fact, the ones that answered. They spoke in riddles, as always.” She sat back up and pulled her dressing gown over her shoulders. “He’s close, somewhere within the bounds of the realm of Asgard, but not within the city walls. They told me that no matter how hard you look for him, he won’t be found. Not until he wishes to be. ‘Your eyes may fall upon him, but you won’t see him.’”
I stared at her in disbelief. “That’s what they said? That’s everything?”
Freya stood, trying the ribbon around her waist to secure the dressing gown. “That’s everything. Now kindly get out so I can mourn Loki’s continued existence by getting very drunk.”
She hustled me toward the door, eager to have me out of her sight. When I was in the hall, she started to close the door but stopped short. “Oh, right,” she said, catching my eye. “They said it’s a boy.” And she slammed the door in my face.
◦ ● ◦
Idunn stroked my hair as I cried into her lap. She was propped up against the head of the bed, on the side where Loki normally slept. My chest heaved, each desperate breath a sharp hiss. It was too much. He wasn’t here. Wouldn’t be here. I was alone with this baby. He had promised me so much, and now none of it was true. I wanted to kill him, but I also wanted him next to me.
I wanted so many things at once.
“You’re going to be alright.” Idunn’s voice was little more than a whisper. “Do you know how I know that?”
I wiped the slime of tears and mucus from my face, covering the back of my hand in it. “How?”
“Because you’re Sigyn Odindottir. You put up with your father, and with Thor, and with all your brothers all these years. Anyone else would’ve packed up their bags and left Asgard. You never stopped trying, even when the odds were against you.” She passed me a handkerchief. “And because we’re going to help you.”
I shook my head, trying to pull myself together. “I can’t ask for that.”
“You’re not. Bragi and I will help you with the house and the chores, and tomorrow, I’ll speak with the others.”
“No Idunn, you can’t. You have your own life, and I—”
Her voice grew stern, and her eyebrows furrowed in a way that looked foreign on her. “There’s nothing you can do about it. You’ll let me in, or I’ll have Thor take the door off its hinges.”
I choked out a watery laugh. “You would, wouldn’t you?”
“I would. We all know you’re too stubborn to take help, so this is the compromise I’m giving you. I love you, and I’m going to take care of you.” She ran her hand down the side of my face again, the stern demeanour falling away. “Sigyn, he’s coming back, and you’re going to be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”