“The monsters have been taken care of. The choices we have made today will abate Ragnarok and ensure the safety of the nine realms for the foreseeable future.”
—Odin - Public Notice
Our hall was ghostly when we returned. The remnants of the battle were strewn across the floor; chairs knocked over and shattered, makeshift weapons discarded, boot prints coating the floor. A pool of blood where I’d been cut. The smear of red as I’d dragged myself away, trying to protect Hel.
And now they were gone. No more Angrboda to curse my name and all my naive habits. No more shed snakeskin or puppy howls or dancing shadows. All that odd fellowship, the common ground, gone. And our lives were once again in tatters.
Narvi slid his hand into mine. “It’s going to be okay.”
It had to be, didn’t it? How much worse could things get than they were? Every decent moment had continuously been snatched away from me. When were things going to change?
Váli grumbled as he picked up a chair and put it back. The leg was bent. It wobbled and fell over again. He screamed and launched it at the wall, shattering it into pieces that clattered to the floor. He stood there, huffing and puffing, the blanket around his waist, his tattoos changing colour, and neither of us was going to get in the way of whatever he did next. Wolfhides were nothing to trifle with when they were angry.
“Narvi,” I whispered. “Get your brother some trousers.”
The moment Narvi left the room, the front door burst open. I had the wildfire in my hands in a breath, but it was Hreidulfr. He slammed the door shut and raced past me, bumping me and snuffing out the flame.
“Yggdrasil above.” He took Váli’s face in his large hands and stared down at him. “I thought you were dead.”
“I’m not.” The rage in his face cooled at the sight of him. Váli’s hand covered Hreidulfr’s, and he bent his neck up to kiss him. “I’d never die on you.”
I blushed and turned away to give them some privacy. Narvi had come back with the trousers and put them on a chair instead.
Narvi looked at me. “What now?”
“Now,” I sighed, “we have a drink.”
I went to the cupboards and pulled out a few bottles of spiced mead, the kind Loki liked, then took them to the long hearth in the middle of the room. Narvi followed, four cups in his arms. A moment later, Váli came with furs and Hreidulfr with cushions.
There’s a silent knowing to mourning. A sadness that falls into place like a mist, and it’s so thick that the only way to see through it is to sit close and stay together. So we started a fire, curled up on the floor around it, and told Hreidulfr what had happened.
Váli reached up to touch Hreidulfr’s cheek, his head on his lover’s knee, lying next to the hearth. “It’s all ridiculous. Loki’s a bastard, that’s easy. But what kind of asshole do you have to be to throw away kids like that?”
Hreidulfr kept staring into the fire. “I don’t know.”
I let the silence sit for a moment, but I could see the war raging in Hreidulfr’s mind. “Is there something you need to say to us? Do you regret being here?”
“That’s not an easy question, ma’am.” Hreidulfr didn’t look at me. “If it wasn’t for Váli, I’d probably turn tail and run. It’s not a nice thing to say, I know. When I was growing up, Ma told us to do the right thing, no matter what. And I don’t know what the right thing is. If those kids of Loki’s kill the gods, that’s definitely not the right thing. But neither is tearing children from their parents and sending them off to kill or be killed. I mean, won’t something like that just make them hate us more?” Finally, his eyes met mine. “I died in service of my gods, but the longer I’m here, the more I see that the gods are just as broken as the rest of us. I don’t want to be on the side of anyone who’d do what Odin did.”
I let out a breath. “Whatever you decide, I understand. This isn’t what we planned for ourselves either.”
Hreidulfr looked down. Váli was staring up at him with worry in his eyes. “I want to be where you are. You can be my compass.”
Váli smirked. “No pressure then.”
Narvi leaned over, resting his cheek on my shoulder. “Do you think they’ll be okay?”
“I don’t know.” I stroked his brown hair, long and beautiful like his fathers’. “I hope so. Jormungandr is smarter than anything in the sea. And Hel, she’s powerful. She won’t go down without a fight.”
“And Fenrir is here,” Váli said. “I might be able to keep an eye on him if they train him with the rest of us.”
“You’d do that?” I asked.
Váli pursed his lips, searching his mind. “I guess. It’s hard to hate him. None of this is his fault. We share a shitty father, so I feel like I owe him.”
“What about Father?” Narvi looked up at me. “What will they do to him?”
I drew in a long breath, blinking back tears. “Nothing good.”
◦ ● ◦
The next morning, after a fitful sleep, Narvi and I went to Valaskjálf to find answers. Váli had training and it was more important than ever for him to appear obedient. So we went alone.
But there was chaos when we arrived at the entrance of the dungeons. A pair of einherjar were being screamed at by a burly, hairy man in full armour.
“You morons. And she just, what, got away?” He slapped one of them in the side of the head. “What in the nine am I going to tell the Allfather, hmm? I should take your heads right here, put you out of commission until sunrise.”
I approached cautiously. “Has something happened?”
The man in charge gave me a sideways glance, realized who I was, and then rolled his eyes. “You. Just great. You should be in there with them, but instead you’re pestering me.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You know, I’m getting tired of all this attitude people keep giving me. Perhaps you’d like to test me, see how quickly I can light your mouldy beard on fire.” I let him consider it for a moment. “What happened?”
He sighed and turned to face me. “There was an incident in the night. The wild woman and that weasel of yours got into a fight. She beat him good, nearly tore him to shreds with just her teeth. These two absolute shit stains—” he pointed behind him—“went to pull her off and let her escape.”
“We didn’t let her do nothing,” the smaller of the two barked, his face a mess of blood and dirt. “She smashed my head into the wall until I blacked out. She’s an animal!”
“She’s just gone?” I asked. “They haven’t found her?”
“Not yet. They will. She can’t hide from Odin.” The bloodied einherji rubbed at the side of his face.
“And my father?” Narvi’s face had gone pale. “Is he alright?”
“I had the men take him to the infirmary a while ago. He got what he deserved, but not enough, if you ask me.”
“No one asked.” I turned, dragging Narvi with me. When we were safely out of earshot, I pulled him to my side. “He’s fine. He’s stronger than that.”
There were tears in Narvi’s eyes, but he had that look he got when he was thinking, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed. “Why would Angrboda hurt him? It doesn’t make any sense. There’s no way she could blame him for this.”
“I don’t know.” I lowered my voice, whispering into Narvi’s hair. “But I’m going to make him tell us exactly what happened, and then we’re going to figure out how to get him out of this mess. Again.”
◦ ● ◦
Except he wasn’t at the infirmary either. One of the apprentices told us that Loki had seemed unconscious when he’d been brought in, but when they’d turned their backs to get healing supplies, he disappeared. They’d searched the entire building and found nothing. Not so much as a trail of blood. He was just gone.
“So he planned this whole thing, didn’t he?” Váli leaned over the fence, his head close to mine and Narvi’s. The clatter of battle sounded from behind him, the training session still in full swing. His face was a mess of fresh bruises, but he’d already refused to talk about it.
“He didn’t come here?” I asked.
Váli scoffed. “Why would he? We aren’t exactly best friends.”
I pointed behind him, and Váli looked. Fenrir was chained to a post, howling and yipping at any of the einherjar that came close. The poor thing seemed anxious now that he was away from everything he knew. “I thought he’d come for Fenrir first. Can’t we do something?”
“No.” Váli shook his head. “If I get too close, they’ll know I’m up to something. Everyone knows what Loki did, and they know I fought back.” He gestured to his face. “I need them to trust me. Maybe if I’m patient, I can be more involved in his training. I think that’s my best bet. But if Loki’s planning to steal him away, good luck to him. There are tens of thousands of warriors in and out of here everyday, and they keep the pup under warded lock and key. It won’t be easy.”
I sighed. Between the lack of sleep, the exhaustion of the previous day, and simply…the acceptance that these things were inevitable and commonplace for us, I had no willpower left. “Let’s go home. Maybe he went there. I don’t want him bleeding out on my floor.” I gave Váli a quick caress on the cheek. “I’ll have something hot for supper for you and your friend when you get home.”
Váli blushed a bit, a thin smile on his lips. “Thanks, Mum. Now leave before you get me in trouble.”
◦ ● ◦
“Loki?” I closed the front door behind me. He wasn’t in the kitchen, but that would be an awfully obvious place to hide. I signalled to Narvi to start checking the rooms on the right side, and I went to the left. My bedroom door was ajar. And as I peeked in, a tiny mewling came from the far corner, behind the bed.
As I rounded the mattress, a full-grown forest cat was lying in the darkest corner of the room. It was thin, unhealthy. Its fur was old and grey, and its emerald eyes peered back at me, tired.
I put my hands on my hips and let out an exasperated breath. I was no longer the young woman who sprang to his aid out of unbridled love, and this routine was getting old.
And yet…
I knelt down in front of the cat and held out my hands. “Come on, Loki. It’s just us.”
The cat let its head fall again, making no effort to get up. So I pulled it into my arms as gently as I could.
“Narvi! Bring the healing kit.” I laid the cat on the bed as Narvi rustled through cupboards in the kitchen. “I can’t help you if you don’t change back. You’re safe.”
And he did, after a moment. He still wore yesterday’s clothes, dirty and covered in blood. A piece of the flesh of his shoulder was torn away, the markings jagged like teeth. He was bruised and the skin on his cheek was broken over the bone.
“All this to escape?”
Loki didn’t so much as smile. “We had to try. They took everything, Sig.”
“It’s not over. You still have us, and we can try to fix this.”
“How?” He stared into the corner, listless. “Hel and Jormungandr are already gone. They made sure we knew. I don’t even know where to start looking for them.”
Even after everything, I still hated to see him cry.
Narvi came in, rune ink and poultice bottles tucked under one arm, a bowl of clean water in the other hand. He knew what he was doing, so I let him clean Loki’s wounds.
“We know exactly where Hel is going. If we just—”
“What?” Loki spat. “Ride to Helheim? How? It’s closed off to everything. Only Odin’s been there, and he’s not exactly going to divulge those secrets to us.”
“If you just listen—”
“I’m tired of listening!” Loki was trying to sit up, but Narvi pushed him back down, still attempting to clear the dirt from his shoulder. He looked ready to push the boy away but thought better of it. “They’re going to take all of you. You saw the prophecy and you know. We can’t just let them do this. We’ve tried to follow the rules, tried to do what they said. They stole from us anyway. Four of my children, Sigyn. Four. It’s time I steal something from them.”
“Father, please don’t do anything rash.” Narvi rinsed the bloody rag and opened the bottle of rune ink. “You’re going to make things worse.”
“How can it be any worse than this?” Loki looked at Narvi like he’d lost his mind.
Narvi stopped, brush and ink in hand. “You could die. We could die.”
It was enough to give Loki pause, but he shook his head. “You’re the only one who’s going to survive. The rest of us are doomed.”
“Awfully sure of yourself for someone who doesn’t believe in fate.” I took the brush from Narvi and started to paint runes near the bite in Loki’s shoulder.
Loki slapped the brush from my hand. “Why are you helping me if you think I’m such an idiot?”
I looked at the brush on the floor, the ink splattered across the wall and the sheets, then back to him. “Apparently because I’m also an idiot. Forget the ink; just heal him.”
Loki shut his mouth long enough for us to work together, closing up the wounds. When it was done, he looked more or less intact. It was his eyes that looked empty.
He got out of bed and left the room, forcing us to follow him to his own bedroom. Rummaging through his wardrobe, he began to change into fresh clothes.
“Where are you going?” I leaned against the doorframe.
Narvi was trying to get into his line of sight, make him look at him. “You should sleep.”
“I can’t. I have to do something.” Loki stopped to look at me. “They’re my children. You have to understand.”
“When are you coming back?” Narvi’s eyes were glistening.
Loki tipped his head back, drawing a breath. He pulled Narvi into his arms, and I caught sight of the tear that disappeared into the top of Narvi’s hair. “When I can. They’ll be looking for me. I love you, son. Always.”
Narvi pushed back, his face red. “Then why can’t you just stay? Why do you love them more than us?”
“I don’t.” Loki stumbled over the words, trying to draw Narvi back into his arms, but the boy wouldn’t have it. “It’s just that you’re safe. You have your mother to protect you. You don’t need me like they do.”
“Of course I need you!” Narvi backed away, hugging himself. “You think I’m naive, but I’m not. Someday you’re going to do something stupid, and you’re going to die. And if you die, I’m not going to forgive you, because you could’ve been safe with us, but you left anyway. You always leave.”
“Narvi, please—”
“No! I’m not watching you go this time.” Narvi turned and stormed out. A door slammed a moment later.
“Skít.” Loki dragged his hand across his face.
“He’s right.” I stared at him as he looked up, his face twisted in distress. “Ever since you cut off Sif’s hair all those years ago, you’ve been looking for new ways to get yourself into trouble. You always choose trouble, even when you’re screaming from the rafters about how little trouble you want to be in. Someday, you won’t come home. And I’m not sure what’s worse: that, or that I expected it.”
I left Loki alone to dress. To make his choice. And he did. From my seat in the study, pretending to read, I heard the front door open and close. Everything fell silent. Not a creak of wood or a breath of wind against the hall. Quiet, except for the pained weeping coming from the crack under Narvi’s bedroom door.