“Some tortures we must inflict on ourselves over and over, because it’s the only thing we deserve.”
—Tales of Midgard, Volume 4
Eight Years Later
The wooden bowl flew across the room, sending discarded leftovers flying against the walls and the door. I’d missed him, for the most part, but it still felt satisfying.
Loki shook the food from his boot and pulled his cloak over his shoulders.
“You’re just going to leave then? Again?” My nightdress was askew over my body, my hair a mess. He looked up but didn’t answer. He was perfectly accustomed to this crooked old tradition of ours. We’d fall into bed together, and then he’d leave, and we’d gradually forget, until a few months later when it all happened again. Pushing and pulling and never letting go.
“If you disappear without saying goodbye to Narvi again, you’ll break his heart.” My lips trembled as I spoke. It was true, but it wasn’t the only reason.
Loki sighed and swung his pack over his shoulder, muttering something under his breath in Jotun before he looked up at me. “Narvi’s fifteen, Sigyn. He’s not a child anymore.”
A scream was building in my chest. “Just go! Get out!”
He didn’t need to be told again. He walked out the door and into the darkness, letting it slam behind him.
I grabbed a cup from the table and went to fill it from the cask of mead in the corner. My hands were shaking. I drank it down and filled it again before collapsing into the seat at the table, sloshing mead onto the wood. Not knowing what else to do, I laid my head on my arms and sobbed.
I never learned. We’d done this dance so many times. It wasn’t hope that brought me to bed with him, not exactly. It was the solitude. Nothing had been easy, not for so very long. The entire city had shut us out, gods and all. Tyr kept Váli in the einherjar because he was strong, and Hod kept Narvi in class because he was brilliant, but those were the only kindnesses they gave us. And no one had stepped up to be a boon to me. I was tired and alone, and there were days when Loki would stroll back into the house as beautiful as the day I met him and the loneliness would burn more than the last time he hurt me. One weak moment, that’s all it took. One slow kiss, and I melted for him. We fell into that bed of lies together, searching for whatever it was we needed and finding nothing.
All this time, and I was still a fool.
I’d been stretched out over the table for a long while when the front door opened again.
Váli stepped into the food that was strewn across the floor. “What the hel happened here?” He looked at me, and I knew what he saw. A mess of hair and charcoal and clothing.
Embarrassed at the state of myself, I straightened out my nightdress and wiped the tears from my eyes. “You’re out late.”
“I am.”
Váli sat down next to me and stole what was left of my drink. He’d become a man in every sense. At seventeen, he was cut like an einherji twice his age with cheekbones sharp as axes. He’d curled his mess of red hair into an unruly knot on the back of his head, strands of it hanging in his face. He was rough, covered in stubble and sporting a roguish smile that could melt hearts. Ladies eyed him everywhere we went. To them, he looked like a taste of danger, handsome and wild, but anyone who knew him as Lokason kept their distance.
He also smelled like a brewery.
“I see we’re both awake for the same reasons.” I watched him drink down the last of my mead, the black ink of his knotted tattoos disappearing under his right sleeve. Last year, he’d decided he would learn to be an úlfhethnar, a wolfhide. He’d spent six months learning to take the shape of a wolf, and his tattoos were his badge of completion, each swirl and rune etched with seidr that would ease his transformation to wolf and back again.
He shook his head. “Oh no, I’m not drunk for nearly the same reason you are.” He leaned on the table and stared at me with his father’s eyes. I looked away. “Look at you. You’re sitting here in your nightdress crying into your cup again. He’s not worth this. Why do you do this to yourself?”
I blushed, angry with his mostly accurate perception. “And how do you know what I’m crying over?”
Váli rolled his eyes, gesturing around the room. “His stuff is gone, for a start. Narvi and I left because we could hear you getting up to things again. You’re not exactly subtle.”
I buried my face in my hands. “Yggdrasil shade me, I’m so sorry. Where’s your brother?”
He huffed, a snarky laugh. “I left him at the pub with Gersemi. Freya’s away again, and she’s taking advantage of it. Scandalous, socializing with the likes of us.”
“Good. At least if someone picks a fight, Narvi has someone there who knows how to use a knife.”
Váli looked me over, brow furrowed in pity. He put his arm around me and pulled me into a hug. “You know I just want to see you happy, right?”
I sniffed and wiped the stray tears away. “I’m your mother. Let me worry about you instead.”
He grew quiet, withdrawing his arm. Staring at the table, he started to fidget with the empty cup, spinning it on its side.
Leaning in, I nudged his shoulder. “Váli, is there something to worry about?”
“It’s nothing.” He stood immediately, taking the cup with him to fetch more mead.
I waited, but he kept his back to me. “You’ve always been honest to a fault, Váli. Don’t start lying to me now.”
His shoulders slumped. He paused, then came back to sit down. There was no coy smile, none of his usual sarcasm or bitter humour. “I can’t tell you.”
I leaned forward, forcing him to look me in the eyes. “You can tell me anything. Always.”
He sighed. “If I do, you can’t tell anyone else. Especially not Loki.”
I cupped his face in my hand, the stubble of his patchy beard poking into my skin. “It’s just you and me. I’d never betray your trust.”
He pulled away from me and drank again, staring at the tabletop. “There are things that I know. I wish I didn’t. Things about you and Loki.” He paused, like he didn’t know how to choke out the words. “I know that he used to change shape and be a woman. For bed.”
“Oh?” I stumbled, trying to think of something to say. I’d already discussed my sex life enough for one day. “No, no. You’re mistaken, I—”
He rolled his eyes. “Please, Mother. I saw it with my own eyes. Those times I raided the cellar at night? You didn’t always catch me. Once, I hid under the table because someone was coming, and out walked a half-naked woman. She had that same red hair, same scars. Same smug bastard. I’m not a moron.”
I blushed, hiding my mouth behind my hand. “Váli. I—”
He shook his head, waving his hand. “Don’t you dare tell me. The shapeshifting I was used to, but the rest is more than I need to think about.” He looked up at the ceiling, struggling to find words. “I just...maybe you can help me understand something.”
“I’ll always help you if I can.”
He drank again. “My training is my life. It’s what I was meant to do; I know that. I get to be Váli the einherji, not Váli Lokason. Not Trickster-spawn, not Son of Lies. Just me. It’s mine, and I’ve earned it. I’ve moved up the ranks on my own, gotten my wolfhide on my own. But I think I need to quit.” He looked at me, gauging my reaction. I waited, and he continued. “The longer I stay, the worse it gets. This thing…I’ve tried to stop it, but I can’t. It keeps me awake at night and steals my focus all day. I can’t keep going like this.”
He was being far too cryptic. I couldn’t decipher what he meant. “What’s haunting you?”
Váli took a deep breath, tapping on the rim of his cup. He was shaking, and for a moment, I thought he might not tell me at all. “There’s this einherji. I’ve been training him. And it’s not just him, but it’s...When we spar, I notice things. The way he smells. The way he looks and moves. I think of things I shouldn’t.” Váli looked away. “Sometimes, I think about kissing him.”
I pursed my lips, his words washing over me with a sudden all-encompassing clarity. The girls he’d taken no interest in, the brooding, the avoidance of any talk of marriage or relationships.
Before I could find the right words, he burst into tears, collapsing into his hands. “Mama, what’s wrong with me?”
I leaned over him and wrapped my arms around his shaking body. My head resting on his shoulder, I whispered to him. “Oh, Váli. It’s alright, I have you.” I waited, letting him cry out the worst of it. “There is nothing wrong with you.”
“There is!” He curled his fingers into his hair, nails digging in.
“Listen to me.” I sat up and pulled him with me.
He fought me off, glaring at me with bloodshot eyes. “You and I both know what people in this city think. The worst thing you can be is a man who doesn’t act like one. The things they say about Loki! That he’s argr, that he sleeps with beasts and lets men use him. They used to tell me that every single day, made sure I knew it, until I beat one of them so badly, he didn’t wake up until resurrections the next day. Then they stopped. And it’s not fair because women can be with women, but if I—I am not argr. I am not my father—” The words caught in his throat. “I can’t be this. I can’t. How do I stop?”
I held him tight, his pain tearing me open at the seams, taking all my effort to choke it down. “Váli, you listen to me. There is nothing wrong with you. The people here, they fear what they can’t understand, and they always have. It doesn’t matter. Let them be afraid; you don’t need them.”
“It matters! How will I keep the respect of the einherjar if they think I’m letting someone make a woman out of me? How am I supposed to take a wife that I don’t want just to convince everyone else that I’m normal? How am I supposed to pretend to be something I’m not?”
His questions were so difficult. What could I tell him that wasn’t a lie? “I don’t know. I don’t have the answers.” I took his hands. “I promise you this; when you find a man who loves you, the two of you will always be welcome under my roof. You told me because you knew I’d understand. I promise you, I do. A long time ago I fell in love with a Valkyrie, and a lot of people didn’t want to see us happy. And it’s not the same, I know, but you’re not strange. Your father once told me that people like me—like us—are more common in these realms than we think. He and I protected each other. We’ll protect you. You’re just like us.”
“I am not like Loki, and I don’t want to know anything about him.” Váli snarled, the way he always did when the subject came up. He watched me for a moment, trying to breathe. “I—I don’t know what to do.”
I pushed one of his stray ringlets behind his ear. “You live your life. There are ways to know without speaking. That’s how I knew, when Alruna and I found each other. Someday, a man will look at you, and you’ll see it in his eyes or by the way he talks and acts. You’ll be subtle and patient until you’re sure, and then you’ll make small hints until he makes himself clear. You’ll keep your head down, laugh along with all the horrible things people say, and you’ll bring all that rage and injustice back here where you can curse their ignorance in safety. I can’t fight this battle for you, but I can give you a home that loves you as you are, the same thing I tried to give your father.”
Váli sat back, slowly beginning to return to some semblance of calm. “Is that why Loki still has so much sway with you? Because you have this in common?”
I sighed. “Your father was my world, Váli. We were so much for each other. When it’s your turn, you’ll understand.”
We sat in silence for a while, listening to the crackle of the wood in the fireplace. A long time had passed by the time he chose to speak again.
“So.” He turned to me, unable to keep a straight face. “Does that mean I can bring home any man? As many as I please?”
I shook my finger at him. “Don’t go turning this house into a brothel. You’ve got a baby brother to think of. Now get us a drink. It’s time I told you about Alruna and I.”