“When he returned to Asgard, Loki came with an eight-legged foal in tow. That foal was named Sleipnir and was graciously gifted to the Allfather.”
—Asgard Historical Record, Volume 17
Loki’s presence changed everything. Life stopped being quite so difficult. I was no longer the only person to get up when Váli cried in the night, and sometimes I woke in the morning to find them curled up together in the spare bedroom, still asleep. He went to the market and did the laundry and cooked. Suddenly, I had some freedom. To sleep, to visit, to read.
He was everything he had promised he’d be.
And then there was Sleipnir. Neither one of us knew precisely what to do with a baby horse, and especially one that clearly had seidr in his veins. So we did what felt right. We cleared an unused room and made it into a stable, more or less. We tore a hole in the wall and made a barn door to the outside. Filled the room with hay and oats. I felt clueless, so I did the only thing I thought I could; I offered love and affection. Loki patiently trained him not to run indoors and to clomp at the door when he needed to go out.
And every once in a while, I caught the two of them whinnying and huffing, but when I asked Loki about it, he just blushed and asked me not to tell anyone.
It was good. Even with the lingering tension, the hesitation that was under every action between us, life became steady. Normal. We were confused together, tired together, struggling together. And that was all I had ever wanted.
◦ ● ◦
I knocked on the door. “Are you almost done? I don’t want to be late.”
Loki had sequestered himself inside his old room nearly an hour ago and hadn’t let me in since. “Don’t come in! You’re going to ruin it.” The voice that came back seemed softer than usual. Or perhaps I was imagining it.
I shrugged and went back to the bedroom. It was Midsommerblot and the city was buzzing with anticipation. As per tradition, everyone had been allowed to sleep late in order to stay awake for the few hours of twilight we’d get around midnight before the sun rose again. The longest day of the year, a cause for celebration. There would be food and drink, dancing and costumes. And every year, I tried very hard to make the best of it. It was my favourite day, and also, the very worst.
My costume was a point of pride. I’d been wearing it every year for decades, adding new pieces, thinking that the next one would make it complete, but every year I managed to add or replace something. This time, I’d found a bone-white antler to secure in my hair, curling down against the side of my cheek. The dress was made of airy, black Vanir gossamer that trailed over my skin, brushing against the ground. A mantle of raven feathers hung over my chest. A waterfall of fine gold chains dangled from my hip, lying delicately over the length of my dress. It was perfect.
A pot of white clay sat open on the dresser, and I brought it to the mirror to finish the look. One thin line across my eyes, from temple to temple, and one thin line from the bottom of my lip and down my neck, into the curve between my breasts. Red for my lips, kohl under my eyes.
A jingle drew my attention as Sleipnir clomped around the side of the bed. We’d tied a pair of fake Valkyrie wings to his back, and the gold chains around his neck shook when he walked. Váli was wrapped in a coat trimmed in white fox fur, sitting on the floor, reaching for Sleipnir whenever he came close enough. We’d hired a sitter to stay with the children for the night, but we couldn’t help ourselves.
A shadow appeared in the doorway. I turned, and my mouth fell open.
Loki had shifted into the shape of a woman. Her hair was loose over her shoulders, flowing freely. Peacock-blue silk draped over both her arms, leaving her shoulders bare and gifting me with a glimpse of the tops of her breasts. Gold plating covered her midriff like armour, the pieces connected but pliable as she walked. The silk gown ran to the floor, and on top of it was a train of peacock feathers that bloomed out from her waist and over her dress, trailing a few steps behind her.
She was grinning ear to ear, the emerald of her eyes shining, lined in deep, smoky kohl. “Well, what do you think?”
I cleared my throat and forced myself to say something. “Where did you get that?”
“I’ve had it since before the exile. It’s been stuffed in a trunk for a century. I snuck it out to a tailor and had them touch it up. Do you like it?” Her hands ran along her waist, picking at the feathers nervously.
I barely registered moving closer. She was so beautiful, so stunning that I lost sight of the hesitation I’d been feeling for so long. All I could imagine was the taste of her lips and how she would look underneath when I tore the silk from her body.
But something held me back. The one open wound on my heart, that last worry that I would give myself back to her only to have something else get in our way. I took a deep breath. “You look amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Loki’s reaction was measured. Disappointed. She’d been holding her breath as I approached, and she released it all at once. She straightened one of the feathers in my mantle, the smile not reaching her eyes. “And you look ethereal, darling.”
A knocking sounded at the door. The sitter. The moment shattered, both of us recoiling with the noise. I swallowed the feelings down. “We should go.”
Loki swept her peacock-feather dress train up and hooked the end over her arm, something more reasonable to walk in, then she kissed the boys farewell as I went to the door. A few minutes later, we were out in the bustling streets.
Asgard was packed. Every market and side street were full, a good portion of them making their way upward, toward the Bifrost. The city was alive, vibrating with anticipation. Mead was flowing everywhere we looked, and each block was teeming with people dressed as half-beasts, crowded around casks of drink and cuts of meat ready for roasting, each group singing a different song.
“Happy Midsommerblot!” a young woman called as we passed. I called back, and every few minutes came another well-wisher.
Loki leaned toward me, her hair brushing my cheek. “Ymir’s breath, I missed this.”
“Did you still feel it in exile?”
“Yes, but it’s not the same. Some years, I went down to Midgard to be in the middle of it. Other years, I just sat in my cabin with a bottle of wine and waited. There’s nothing quite like feeling full of love and being absolutely alone.”
Bitterness coiled in me. I wouldn’t know. I’d never been given the chance. It was difficult for anyone to pray to me if they didn’t know I existed.
We followed the masses to the edge of the city, where the land broke off and left nothing but sky. It was a clearing, and in the middle was an enormous unlit pyre, surrounded by people. It was made of freshly hewn wood, nearly as tall as two people, and in the spaces between the wood were offerings that the people of Asgard had made: trinkets, food, rune inscriptions, carvings.
There were citizens of Asgard everywhere, but closest to the pyre were the gods. Like us, they wore intricate costumes. Odin was dressed as himself but with more gold. Freya had painted herself with runes and blood, and her brother was wearing bright Elven clothing. Most of them were gathered near the unlit pyre, but our people were at the cliff’s edge.
Eyvindr waved to us as we approached, and then someone stepped in our way, shouldering Loki as she passed.
Loki opened her mouth to snap at them, but the anger turned to a patient seething as she realized it had been Heimdall. “Well. If it isn’t the bridge troll. Don’t you have something better to do than pick on ladies?”
Heimdall glared at her but didn’t say a word. Instead, he looked at me. “Sister. Happy Midsommerblot.”
Loki scoffed and strode away.
“Don’t think you can act so callously towards Loki and expect me to return that with kindness.” I stared him down.
“You could wait until the ritual starts and push him off the edge. No one would know.” He actually smirked. “It would save us a lot of effort.”
Aghast, I picked up my skirts and hurried after Loki.
“Ah, here she comes.” Loki held her hand out to welcome me. She’d already been in the middle of conversation with Hod and Eyvindr, their arms linked as always.
“It’s good to have you here. You’re hardly in Valhalla anymore.” Hod adjusted the collar of his formal tunic, the embroidery telling a story that wrapped around him like a scroll.
Loki smirked. “If I’m home with the boys, no one can have me beheaded.”
“You could visit us. We can always use the company.” Eyvindr was wearing what I had once made the mistake of referring to as a dress but was actually traditional clothing from his birthplace in Midgard. Long and red, he’d embroidered it himself, covering it with gold dragons and birds, patterns I’d never seen in Asgard.
“We will, I swear. It’s not that we don’t want to. We just use all our quiet hours to sleep,” I laughed. Something caught my eye. “Oh. Look, it’s starting.”
Eyvindr gave Hod a pat on the arm. “Should I tell you what’s happening?”
Hod smiled. “I’d like that.”
Eyvindr spoke loud enough for us to hear, even though the story was only for Hod. I stared out over Midgard as he spoke. “The sun is almost gone. It won’t be full dark, of course, not for many days. Midgard is below. The forests and plains and rocks seem like specks, hardly big enough to see. It’s hard to see much, but there’s one tiny light, so small it looks like a star. And now another. It’s slow but there are fires starting all over Midgard. Some of them must be the size of houses.”
“You always make it sound so beautiful.” Hod gave him a look of appreciation.
“It is,” Eyvindr said. “But it’s just beginning. Do you feel it?”
Hod nodded.
A deep pit welled itself into my stomach. This was the worst part. Midsommar wasn’t just the longest day of the year. It was a night of celebration in Midgard, a day for prayer and offerings. Sacrifices so numerous that the gods could feel it, worship made manifest. But I wasn’t a god, not officially. I would watch everyone I loved be a part of something I couldn’t touch, just like every year before. And then I pushed it down and pretended to be just as elated as everyone else, hoping that I could calm the ache.
I looked down the line of gods that had gathered at the edge of the realm. Each of them was reacting in turn as the invisible current slipped under their skin. Their faces still visible in the dying light, moved to tears and laughter, overcome by the rush.
Loki drew in a sharp breath as the feeling hit her. Her eyes fluttered, and she steadied herself. Her hand was on her chest, her breath coming faster now.
They were all the same, every god. Enveloped by this bliss. And there was nothing I could do to keep the misery from my face.
“Sigyn.” Loki drew closer to me, leaning her head in for privacy. “What’s wrong?”
My lips quivered, and I tried to hold the emotions back. “This isn’t for me. I’m not a goddess.”
Her lips parted and a sadness swept over her features. “Oh.”
I swallowed, a tear running down my face. “It’s fine. Maybe someday I’ll know what it’s like.”
Loki took my hands and pulled them up against her chest. She must have been feeling the bliss of the worship; this was the boldest move she’d made since coming home. Then she tipped her forehead against mine, her lips so near, and asked, “Would you like me to show you?”
There was a moment of hesitation. I wanted to tell her no; I didn’t need the pity. I wanted to hold on to that last shred of anger that had been protecting me, keeping me closed to her. But I wanted to know so badly.
I nodded.
A tiny smile played on her lips, and she closed her eyes. Her hands grew warm in mine, and a low hum filled my fingertips. It travelled up, making the hair on my arms stand on end. My heart started to flutter, and my vision blurred. Everything I’d been harbouring in my heart floated away. Then there was something else. Something faint.
Prayers.
I’m so lost.
I know I’m not like everyone else.
You’re the reason I know who I am.
I wish I could tell someone.
If only they would let me love him.
This isn’t the life I wanted.
You saved me.
Thank you.
I gripped her hands tighter, overwhelmed by the emotion in their voices. The pain, the grief, the joy. The people of Midgard, reaching out to my Loki for guidance and shelter.
“Loki, I…” But there were no words.
She opened her eyes. “There aren’t many of them, not like Thor or Odin have. But a century in exile is a lot of time to do a little bit of good. And they’re enough for me.”
Watching me for a moment, her eyes seemed a little out of focus. Dreamy. Then she let go of my hands and held my face in her palms. She kissed me, and the world melted away. The worship poured into me until I felt like I would float off, warm and happy, into the great unknown. It slowly settled into every bit of me, a coursing static, and I could feel her lips again, soft against mine. Feel the little ridge where the deepest scar was.
She still remembered how to kiss me to take my breath away.
She spoke against my mouth. “Sigyn, you must be a goddess, because I worship every inch of you. You’re the only thing I’m devoted to. You’re worth more to me than every sunrise, every sunset, every prayer. You’re kind, and you love me, and I don’t deserve any of it. You’re the guiding star I see by. And I need you more than I’ll ever need anything for the rest of my life. I’m here with you, and you’ll never be alone again.”
I’d started crying the moment her sermon began. I tried to wipe away the tears without smudging my face too badly. I said the only thing I could manage, an understatement. “You’re sweet, Loki.”
Her thumb brushed my cheek. “How do you feel?”
I pursed my lips, searching for the words. “Loved.”
A smile grew on her face. “You’ll always be loved.”
I reached up and set my palm on her face. She leaned into it, and her expression relaxed. Like a weight had disappeared.
Odin’s voice rose over the crowd. “If you fools don’t come over here, we can’t light this fire.” He was waving the gods over, drawing them away from the ledge. “Let’s go, come on, before someone falls off.”
I wanted to stay where I was, wrapped in Loki’s arms. I’d been keeping her a breath away for so long, and all I wanted was another kiss. But she took my hand and pulled me towards the pyre, and I had to let it go.
“None of you like my speeches, I know, but I’m the Allfather, and I’ll say what I want.” Odin’s tone earned him a spattering of hearty laughter. “Each of you has a duty, a responsibility to maintain. Some more than others. You’re the gods of War and Peace, Health and Hearth, Sex and Prosperity. The people of Midgard ask you for help, for the tools to help themselves, and for guidance. They pray to you, make sacrifices to you, in order to be served by you. In turn, we rely on their continued faith in us. Never forget that. Do right by them. Earn their loyalty. Now light the damn thing.”
A cheer rose up. Loki nudged me, and we both summoned up a rune for wildfire and threw them onto the pyre along with the other gods who knew how. It lit quickly, heat bursting from flames that flickered in blood-red, yellow, violet, lavender, and teal. The offerings disappeared into the fire, and more of the static crackled forth from it, dancing across my skin.
Cheers rose up from the crowd. The formality was wearing away. I stared up at the fire, seeing it for the first time as the true gods saw it, dancing with wisps of something intangible, each trinket that caught releasing another curl of worship. The air was full of it.
Loki snared my attention away, her thumb stroking my face. Everything was so hazy. The fire danced in her eyes, and I was so very aware of how beautiful she was. How beautifully she’d fit back into our lives.
I ran my hand into her hair and pulled her down to kiss me. Her hands found my waist, and then one was travelling up my side, pressing me against her body. Startled, I gasped against her lips, and she made a noise that sent a thrill through me.
The warmth of the moment was swallowed by the slow thunder of drumming. With it came a low growl, the voice of a man as ancient as Asgard itself, far older than either of us. He’d been one of the first to join the gods in Valhalla. The jaw of a wolf obscured his face, draping down over his shoulders, the fire casting shadows over his beastly form. He growled in words no longer heard in Midgard, old and without time. The stomping of his feet cast dust into the air. The music changed, intensifying. Those in the crowd who knew the chant sang along with him, the sound thickening. The music and the air were the same, inescapable. Entrancing. Primitive.
This was the real celebration.
Loki took my hand and began to sway. The crowd around us was already moving, bodies writhing and dancing to the thick, dark drumming. I followed Loki, letting the music wash over me. Letting this bliss she’d given me guide my body.
I don’t know how long we danced. The fire was never allowed to go out, wood piled on every time it got too dim. Shadows moved around us, antlers, teeth, feathers, all of us more animal than man. Her shoes discarded, Loki bounced on her heels to the beat of the drum, the feathers of her dress shimmering around her. I lost myself in the rhythm as it changed and became something new again and again, moving my feet as if they didn’t belong to me. And then a hand on my shoulder brought me back.
It was Thor, his eyes as wide as a full moon. “Sigyn! Hey! I have to tell you something. Siggy-Sigyn. Sif is going to have a baby!”
I stopped dancing, and the world kept moving around me. I hugged him to keep my balance. “That’s wonderful!”
“Congratulations, friend.” Loki slapped him on the back. “Maybe a son for Váli to play with.”
Thor laughed at nothing. “Maybe! I’ve always wanted a son.” He kissed me on the head. “You wait right here; I’m coming back later. I have to tell the others!” He didn’t wait for an answer, simply danced away to the next in line.
I sighed, wiping the sweat from my brow and falling easily into Loki’s arms. Her lips trailed up my neck, and I giggled, unable to keep steady under her touch.
She kissed my earlobe. “I need you.”
I clung to her, biting my lip. “Loki! You can’t just say that.”
“I don’t plan to just say it.” Her hand skimmed the side of my breast, and I nearly crumbled.
The smouldering look in her eyes was inviting, but the night was hardly over. “I’ve never left this early before.”
Loki pulled me close, her hips against mine. “You’ve never had my tongue to look forward to.”
She leaned in and kissed me, leaving me shivering.
A grin crept across my lips. “I suppose we really should check on the boys.”
“We really should.”
It was easy to slip away, back into the city. There were dozens of small pyres all over the place, each hosting a celebration in the ways of their Midgard communities. The city was full of music, the song of one gathering drowning out the next. Around one fire the people sang the hundred names of Odin: Hangi, Grimnir, Ofnir, Sigfodr. Another sang rune songs into the sky. It was more beautiful than I could put to words.
When we escaped the crowds and were back on our relatively peaceful path home, Loki linked her spare arm in mine. “Thor has it wrong.”
I looked at her, still feeling drunk on all this worship. “Has what wrong?”
“A son is wonderful, but I’ve always wanted a daughter.”
“That’s sweet, but that’s not what the Nornir gave you.”
“No. But there’s still time.”
I stopped, bringing her to a halt as well. “Say what you mean, Loki.”
She stumbled over her words, her silver tongue suddenly missing. “I know I wasn’t here, and I can’t go back and fix it, but I don’t want that to have been my only chance. I want to try again. Another baby for our family. I would never let that happen again, and it’s not for me to decide but—”
“Loki.” I put my hand on her cheek. “Yes.”
“Really?”
“I asked for time, and you gave it to me.” I took a long breath, letting the words spill out before the walls came back up. “You love us, and you’d do anything for us. And I don’t want that to be the only version of this story either. If you’d been here, we’d probably have already decided on another child. Don’t you think?”
She nodded, saying nothing. Like she was afraid any sudden movement would ruin it.
“So then yes, Loki. I will have this family with you.”
A relieved smile burst onto her face, and she looked away. “You must be out of your mind.”
I took her hand and pulled her toward the house, the spark still alive and burning under my skin. “Aren’t we all?”
We did our best to behave as we paid the sitter and let her leave. The boys were snug in their beds, and the moment the front door locked, Loki pressed me against the wood. She trailed soft kisses along my neck, up the curve of my jaw. With all the worship thrumming under my skin, my body was threatening to melt away under her touch.
But there were too many things in the way. She unclasped the peacock feather trail and let it fall to the floor next to the table. We took care with the baubles on each other’s costumes, unclipping the antler from my hair and the gold plating from her waist. Each piece was delicately put aside until we were both down to the last bits of clothing. Then her hands were on me again.
I’d missed how she knew expertly where to touch me.
I pushed her up against the counter. Loki looked at me, startled yet very approving. My hands ran against the satin of her shift, pushing it up her thighs. She bit her lip, and her head lolled back. I slid my hands around to grip her ass, and she held onto the counter for balance. Kisses. One after the other, I trailed them down her neck. I bent, placing them on her satin-covered belly, down until I was on my knees in front of her, kissing her thighs.
She slid her fingers into my hair, and I looked up, a grin on my face, and whispered, “It’s my turn to worship you.”