“I love you, Mother.
It’s alright.”
—Narvi - a dream
Sit. Wait. Drip. Empty. Scream. Shake. Sit. Wait. Drip. Empty. Scream. Shake.
Seconds and minutes and days and months passed outside our walls, but I could only guess at how long it had really been. We were neither alive nor dead. It had been years, I was sure of that much. Years in this insanity, this unending nothingness.
Sit
Wait
Drip
Empty
Scream
Shake
Sit
Wait
Drip
Empty
Scream
Shake
Loki had stopped reminiscing a long time ago. He didn’t want to think about any of it. If I mentioned the boys or any of his children, he began planning. I listened to his long tirades about revenge, duty, and murder. How some of his children were still out there, how he would kill everyone who had harmed his family, how Hel and Fenrir would help him. If Odin wanted Ragnarok, he would give it to him. Each drop of venom that hit his face burned darkness into him. He spoke of gutting and flaying and castrating like it was poetry. His anger fuelled him, kept him alive.
The things he said frayed my seams. When he was quiet, my mind showed me the horrors again and again. Reminded me how alone I was, how entirely I had failed. I tried to remember happier things, but the moment I opened my eyes, I saw the room they had died in, the old stain on the rocks. I thought if I stared long enough, it might just bring them back. It never worked.
He wanted to destroy everything, but I only wished to die. To melt into my dreams and live there forever. At least when I dreamed, they were alive and happy, and if I could just join them…
Maybe if I wanted it long enough, wished for it hard enough, my heart would cease to beat and would carry me from this wretched place.
But I couldn’t die. I knew that. Odin’s runes wouldn’t let me.
At least in Hel, I’d have a seat at the table.