“From his weapons in open country
a man must move less than a pace;
no man knows for sure, when he’s out on a trip,
when he might have need of his spear.”
—Hávamál 38
We managed to avoid Valhalla quite consistently for months. Loki refused to be caught in the same room as Odin, and I wasn’t about to argue with that logic. But when Yule rolled around, neither of us could justify making the boys miss out because we wanted to lick our wounds. We could handle one night. For them.
Valhalla was adorned with Yule decorations. Entire fir trees had been hewn and brought inside to cover in delicate chains and baubles of gold and silver. Einherjar ran about with the hides of rams and goats on their backs, the horns sitting on their heads like crowns. The city had been full of them as well, singing as they danced and drank their way from home to home. I couldn’t help but smile; Loki and I had both pranced around in this hall in our own times, with horned costumes on our heads and Yule cake in our bellies. Now our sons would do the same.
“Alright, go on you two.” Loki nudged Narvi forward, tipping his goat hide to the side a little. Narvi straightened it and hesitated, looking back up at his father. Then Váli pulled on his arm and dragged him out to play. They ran off together and joined the crowd, dancing to the drums.
Loki and I made our way up to our seats at the head table. There were eyes on us, and I didn’t much like it. I groaned. “Can’t we just get drunk and kiss in the shadows like our first Yule together?”
He laughed. “I don’t think you remember that the same way I do. You spent the whole time looking around corners because you were terrified of getting caught.”
“And yet I’d still find it more relaxing than this.”
Loki nodded to the empty centre seat as we approached. “It seems old Grimnir is missing.”
Our chairs were still there, practically growing cobwebs from disuse. We sat down. “I’m sure he’ll be along. Odin would never miss an opportunity to act the hero.”
And as if I’d summoned him with the very thought, Odin strode through the doors. He was decked in a cloak of blood-red fabric, trimmed with white fox fur, his usual Yule attire. But beside him was a young man, too pale and tall to be anything but Jotun.
Loki looked from the young man and back to me, a question on his face. I shook my head. I’d never seen him before.
The room caught sight of them, and the mirth gradually changed to whispers and curiosity. The attention was just what Odin was after. He made his way to his seat at the head table.
“Another day of good Yule to you all! I hope the last five have treated you kindly. You’ll have drunk my casks dry by the time it comes to an end, and we’ll all be better for it. But I see you have a question for me, yes? Who is the boy?”
Loki leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Your father is so dramatic.”
Odin slung his arm around the young man’s shoulder. He couldn’t have been more than 16. There was something about him that reminded me of stone, the hard lines of his face and the apparent inability for joy. He was already taller than the Allfather and was well on his way to becoming a giant among the Aesir.
“As you all well know, it has been foretold that I will die at the battle of Ragnarok.” The crowd began to boo and cry out, but Odin hushed them. “Yes, be that as it may, it’s still true. But I have good news. Another prophecy has spoken of this young man. His name is Vidar, and he is my son. When I meet my fate, he will be the one to kill the wolf and avenge me.”
The einherjar cheered, raising their horns and toasting their god. But the head table was silent. I looked, scanning their reactions. It seemed no one knew how to take the news of a new brother, except for Baldur, who had the presence of mind to set his hand on his mother’s shoulder. Frigg stared into the crowd, stoic and distant as ever.
“Come now. Let’s celebrate his arrival properly.” Odin beckoned a man forward with a wave of his hand. He approached the head table with a bleating goat struggling against a leash, which he passed to Odin.
The Allfather stroked its head, trying to keep it docile, but we all knew what was coming. “Each Yule we celebrate the end of the long, sunless days and the slow return of summer. We praise Sol and Mani, the gods who have sacrificed their place among us to pull the sun and moon across the sky and keep them safe from the wolves who wish to destroy them. We give thanks to Yggdrasil as She holds the realms together. May She continue to shade us in our time of need.” He turned to Vidar and held the goat out for him to take. “It’s your first Yule among the gods, and you should do the honours.”
Loki leaned in to whisper in my ear, biting sarcasm on his voice. “I see we’re honouring Jotnar half-breeds now. Wonder what that would’ve been like.”
I spotted the boys rushing toward the head table. I hauled Váli up onto my lap, and Narvi crawled onto Loki’s. It was the perfect excuse to look away. I’d never liked that part of Yule. Ritual sacrifice never helped me keep my meal down. Thankfully, it was over quickly.
And then, the same as every year before, Odin walked in front of the table and blessed the gods one by one. When he reached us, he dipped his fingers in the bowl and touched them to my forehead, drawing a line of blood down to the tip of my nose. It was still hot. He did the same to Loki, and each of the boys.
“Good to see you both. Finally.” Odin gave us a crooked smile. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back.”
“Why?” Loki’s voice was smooth and venomous. “So you can take something else from us?”
“I’ve heard your visits to the stables have been going well.” Odin looked at his grandchildren. Váli was sneering openly, but Narvi loved the attention. “Do you like to visit Sleipnir?”
Narvi nodded. “He has pretty armour now, and he’s always shiny.”
“You see,” Odin said, turning his attention to us. “We take good care of him. But Loki, I want to make up for all this. It’s been trying on you, I’m sure. As soon as the thaw comes, let’s go down to Midgard together. Visit the people, get reacquainted. All this pettiness can’t go on until Ragnarok.”
Loki raised an eyebrow. “You’d know better than I would.”
Odin’s unnerving smile widened, his teeth showing. “I doubt that.”
“Father.” I nodded down the table. “I think the others are waiting for their blessings.”
“Of course. We’ll make the plans another time.” And then he moved on.
Once he was out of earshot, Loki turned his head to me, wide-eyed. “What was that?”
I struggled for words. “I don’t like it.”
“Father.” Narvi tugged at Loki’s shirt. “I’m hungry.”
“Alright, let’s get your bellies full. Your mother and I will discuss things later, hmm? Away from prying ears, isn’t that right?” Loki pinched Narvi’s sides, tickling him until he burst into laughter and toppled his own goat horns off.
And he was right. We were going to talk about it.