“Adaptation is one of the things we do best. We become what life requires of us.”
—Tales of Midgard, Volume 5
Eight months passed.
Life found a new rhythm, mostly consisting of short sleeps and long days. I woke when Váli woke and slept when he slept. He refused to stay down for more than a few hours at a time, and so I cultivated shadows under my eyes and a yawn on my breath.
Even though I was always tired and adapting to his whims, trying to guess what he might need, even though he ran my life like a tiny, relentless drill sergeant, I loved him. I could watch him for hours, the way his toes curled or how his gaze wandered around the room. And as he got a little less tiny, week after week, month after month, he became more interesting to watch. He was figuring out his body and the world around him. His flame hair was an unruly tuft, the texture as wild as mine, and those emerald eyes grew more curious by the day. There was nothing he didn’t want to touch, no bauble he didn’t reach for, no hair he didn’t want to pull.
It would have been a lonely eight months if it weren’t for Idunn. She came nearly every day to check on us, even after things got easier. Sometimes she stayed up with Váli and sent me back to bed, other times she prepared lunch and made sure I ate. It was easier sometimes to tell myself I needed nothing. Váli needed so much. But I did need. And Idunn saved my life every day, making space for me where I could not.
The others came as well sometimes. Hod, Eyvindr, Bragi, Thor, even Lofn when she could. Their visits were briefer, but they brought food and laughter, two of the things I needed most. Thor liked to cradle my boy in one arm, telling him tall tales and tickling him under his chin. There was something in his eyes when he held him, something that looked like a wish.
And so it went. Váli kept my mind occupied, gave me purpose, and most times, that was enough to keep the melancholy from sinking in. Some days were rays of sunshine, and other days, the sight of him brought me to tears, remembering where he had gotten those eyes.
Loki had been gone for more than a year. Maybe the Nornir had it wrong. Maybe he was never coming back. Maybe he was dead.
What would I tell my son when he had the words to ask why he had no Father?
◦ ● ◦
Váli’s eyes had fluttered for a while before he stopped fighting sleep. His lips were clamped shut, as if it took all his concentration to dream. I moved him slowly from my arms, loath to rustle him awake, and set him in his crib next to the bed.
A pile of clothing was waiting, so I worked my way through it, hanging and folding, letting my mind drift. I was halfway through when the front door opened.
I kept my voice low, heading toward the bedroom door. “Idunn? Did they have it this time? I think he’ll start teething any day, and I—”
It wasn’t Idunn.
Loki.
Wild wasn’t the word for what he was. His hair was matted, and he’d grown a patchy beard, something I’d never seen on him before. His clothes were the same as when he’d left, but dirtier. And behind him was a gangly grey foal. With eight legs.
I drew closer, in too much shock to form words. He was here. Home. My hand reached for him without my permission, wanting to know if I was dreaming. The thick smell of moss and soil was real, and so was his chest beneath my fingertips. Real.
He had come home.
Loki set his hand over mine, such a delicate touch. “Sigyn.”
I pushed his hand away. “Where the fuck have you been? A year, Loki. Do you have any idea what you put me through?”
“I know—”
“I don’t think you do. You sat right there—” I pointed to the kitchen chairs “—and promised me that you’d be here. That you’d love us both and ‘have this family together.’” The words dripped sarcasm. “But you didn’t. And I was a fucking fool, Loki, defending you to our friends, telling them how you didn’t mean to be away, that you wouldn’t do something like that. Because I’m an idiot. If it weren’t for the Nornir, I’d have thought you were dead, and I don’t know what’s worse, thinking you’re dead or knowing you’re a liar.”
“Sigyn, listen.” His voice was hoarse, unsteady. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. You deserve to be angry. But I promise, I didn’t want to leave.”
“But you did! You left me here! I trusted you!” The tears started, and I couldn’t push them back in. I wanted him to see my anger, not how badly I’d missed him.
“Don’t you think I wanted to be here? Don’t you think I wanted—” Panic spread across his face. “Wait, where’s the baby? It didn’t…did something happen?”
I rolled my eyes, wrapping my arms around myself. “Nothing happened, and you don’t just get to see him. Not after everything.”
Loki’s eyes widened, his mouth agape. “Him? Do we have a boy?”
“Don’t change the subject! I’m not finished!”
The foal was picking up speed, spooked further by the fighting. It scampered from corner to corner, in and out of rooms, crashing into the cupboard, then the far end of the room, then the side of the table, nearly a blur. It was so fast. And it was tearing the house apart.
“Skít. Sleipnir, stop! Calm down!” Loki darted after it, attempting to scoop it up as it flew past him.
In the midst of the chaos, Váli’s cries finally reached me. How long had I been screaming over him?
Loki’s head whipped around, staring at the bedroom. He snatched up the foal as it passed again, enduring the kicking and thrashing of hooves against his ribs. The crying drew him toward the bedroom.
Part of me wanted to protest, to punish Loki for what he’d done, but I also knew what kind of mother that would make me.
I wanted so badly for Váli to have a father.
Loki rounded the bed, stroking the foal’s neck until it calmed. Then he approached the crib and sat down on the floor beside it, peering at Váli. He turned to me, tears in the corners of his eyes. “Can I hold him?”
Something about the way he said it, the way he was asking permission to hold his own son, broke my heart. He was chipping away at my anger. “Alright.”
He shuffled the foal in his arms and looked at me expectantly. “If I put him down, he’ll run again.”
I sat down on the floor, not too close, and held my hands out. Loki hefted the foal into my arms, and I nearly buckled under its weight. It was heavier than a sack of flour. But I settled it against my chest, stroking its mane, its eight thin legs wrapped up in each other.
Loki reached into the crib and picked up Váli. The movement made him open his eyes, and the crying stopped. There was someone new. Loki tucked him into his arms, rocking him and humming, tears slicking his cheeks.
“He’s beautiful.” He paused, his voice returning as a shamed whisper. “What did you name him?”
“Váli Lokason.”
He stopped, staring down at the baby like someone had frozen him in place. There was something in his eyes I couldn’t place. A tear fell, splashing on Váli’s cheek. The baby squirmed at the sensation, and Loki stirred again, wiping the drop away with a gentle finger. “Hello, Váli. I loved you before I saw you.”
I let him have his moment, and then the impatience became too much to bear. “Loki. Why do you have a horse?”
He didn’t look at me. “It’s…I don’t know how to tell you.”
“Fine. Where did you go?”
Váli slipped back into sleep, one hand shoved in his mouth. Loki kept watching him, saying nothing. Until he did. “I went to the wall, like I said I would. I thought if I distracted the builder’s horse, it would be the easiest way to stop them. So, I shifted into a mare and tempted the horse into leaving. I thought that would be the end of it. Led it away and made it chase me until the deadline had passed.” He took a long breath, struggling to finish the story. “The other horse was faster.”
He looked at me as if I were supposed to intuit what he meant. I shrugged, growing frustrated. “And then what?”
Loki stretched his neck, delaying the answer. Perhaps putting together the right words. “Sleipnir is my son.”
“Who—” But his eyes were locked on the foal in my arms. “Yggdrasil above.”
“It takes nearly a year to give birth to a horse.” Loki set Váli in his crib and sat back down, facing me. “I lived in the forest. Ate what horses eat. And I was alone the entire time, thinking of you and what you thought of me. Gave birth. Alone. And gods—” He stopped. Took a breath. Hid his face in his hands. “I was so afraid.”
My mouth opened to speak, but I had no words. The dappled grey foal in my arms was nuzzling against my chest, its eyes a startling green.
“Say something, please.”
The anger that had been building under my skin for the last twelve months evaporated. I had been ready for a hundred excuses, but not this. It had hurt, yes, but it didn’t matter. These things couldn’t compare.
“Loki, I am so sorry.” I reached out and put a hand on his cheek. His face softened, and he nuzzled into my palm, resting his hand over mine. A tear ran down his cheek, but his lips were pulled back in the most hesitant smile.
“I missed you,” he whispered against my skin. “Every day.”
“If I had known…” I struggled for the words. “The Nornir had said I wouldn’t find you. I wouldn’t have been looking for a horse. Why didn’t you just come home?”
“How?” He leaned against the bed, settling as close to me as he could. “What if I showed up here as a horse, and you didn’t know it was me? And even if you did, how could I tell you what happened? I couldn’t speak. What would I have said to you if I could?”
I moved closer to him, shifting Sleipnir in my arms. I leaned my head on his shoulder. “You couldn’t have…just changed back?”
“It’s not that simple, Sig. After…what happened, I stayed in that spot for days. Just hid from everything. And by the time I’d gathered the courage to come home, I knew something was wrong. I wanted to shift forms and come back; I knew the promises I was breaking. But this kind of thing doesn’t come with rules. I don’t know what happens when a mare turns back into a man with a horse in his womb. I thought I was better off late than dead.”
I took a deep breath. I didn’t know how to piece all these things together. Didn’t know the right thing to say, to do. My mind could barely contain it all. “What can I do, Loki?”
Loki leaned his head against mine. “Nothing. This is enough.” He pressed a kiss into my hair and chuckled. “Besides, a lifetime of sexual servitude will prepare you for anything.”
I darted a glance at him. “That’s not funny.”
Reaching out to stroke the tip of Sleipnir’s nose, a sad smile spread across his face. “Laughing hurts less.”
I opened my mouth to speak just as a faint noise penetrated the walls. The force of it shook through me, rattling my bones. Loki stretched his jaw, shuddering. The Gjallarhorn.
We were being summoned.