Women praying to Freyja asked for love, beauty, and a rich husband. Men asked for bravery, victory in battle, and great riches. They prayed to Frigg for children, strong crops, long lives.

Very few of them ever made a point of praying to me, or of making offerings. Occasionally there would be a selection of flowers on an altar in some rundown temple that no one could remember to tend to, or a small, harmless animal, a rabbit or a mouse.

By the time the next person came, the rabbit would have eaten the flowers and lopped off to find something for its next meal.

I never minded.

They always thought of me during the hard times. Fearing that the baby might be born wrong, that the husband might die in battle, that the lover was finding solace with another. When their lives were full of joy, they rarely spared a thought for me. But when times were hard, the weather cold, the night dark, and the heart heavy, they always prayed to Sigyn.

I could not remember a time when I had not served my lady Frigg. I tended to her needs and whims during the day and slept, at night, with the other goddesses who cared for she who was greatest amongst us. Every day stretched out, the same blissful peace and quiet, unchanging, no matter what went on outside of Fensalir, in the rest of Asgard.

While there were frequent visitors for Lady Frigg, they rarely spoke to us beyond what was necessary to communicate their desires. It was therefore a surprise when one day, after going to meet the All Father, my lady Frigg returned with a worried look on her face.

We were all instantly attentive, but the lady looked only at me, unhappiness plain on her beautiful face. “Sigyn, my lord Odin has brought someone with him who requests your hand in marriage,” she said, trying to make it sound as ordinary as it was, although she obviously did not consider it so.

I nodded carefully. Such things happened, of course. It affected us little beyond the fact that one of our number was present with less regularity than she had once been.

“You do not,” she continued, trying to meet my eyes, “have to meet with him. With them. You do not even need to agree. Say the word, gentle Sigyn, and I shall guarantee that they will trouble you no more in the future.”

I tried to read my lady’s expression without giving away my own thoughts or feelings. She was worried for some inexplicable reason - could it be that she did not have faith in the decisions of her own husband? Such a thing was unthinkable.

More likely the other who waited with the All Father was one of the Vanir, and my lady Frigg feared to lose a competent handmaiden forever. The thought of being banished from Asgard permanently as the bride of one of the Vanir was terrifying, but not more so than the wrath of the All Father should I refuse, whatever my lady said about the choice being mine to make.

I swallowed and tried to be brave like the lady Freyja would have been in my situation. “I will honour the All Father’s request, my lady,” I said, softly, to make it less likely for the fear in my voice to be heard.

Lady Frigg’s displeasure over my decision was as visible on her face as a storm cloud in the summer sky. “As he wills it, then. This way, Sigyn.”

I followed my lady, looking over my shoulder at the others, and wondered if I would see them again.

It was a short walk from the main hall of Fensalir to the chambers she infrequently shared with the All Father. My lady showed me inside and, with one irate look at her husband, left again in something that, had she been a lesser being, would have been called a snit.

The All Father stood near the centre of the room. He was attired in a way that, I realized, may have had more to do with my lady’s irritation than the identity of the suitor. He wore a large, dark hat with the brim pulled down over his missing eye. The rest was all dark, torn cloaks and mud-stained rags, distinctly ungodly and out of place in the home of Frigg. His single eye gleamed in the shadow of his hat as I walked forward carefully. The All Father was speaking calmly with the man who stood next to him. I assume that this was my prospective husband.

This man was small compared to the All Father - the top of his head barely brushed the All Father’s shoulder, and I could see that the All Father was stooping quite a bit in order to speak more intimately with the smaller man. His hair was red, but not mud-red like the Thunderer’s. It was the red of fire, shifting and changing constantly as he cocked his head while speaking or listening, or when the light hit it at a new angle.

I cleared my throat and he turned.

I would never have imagined, after hearing all of the stories about the All Father’s and the Thunderer’s great deeds that a giant would be so small.

His eyes lit up as he saw me and they were like his hair, constantly shifting and changing, faster than he could blink. He walked toward me, wearing a boyish smile that perfectly suited the rest of his face.

It was a breathtakingly handsome face – a guilty part of me thought he might even compare with the gentle Lord Baldur – but smooth and beardless, like a boy, or even a woman, except for the occasional erratically placed scars.

When he stood in front of me we were of a height and the smile shifted easily into a cheerful grin. “Lady Sigyn.”

I bowed my head to him. “Loki Laufeyiarson.”

He reached out and for a moment I was certain he was going to grab me and pull me toward him.

A fine hand touched my cheek, lightly, briefly, before wandering to my hair. He wrapped a coil of hair around his fingers and pulled it over my shoulder to stare at it curiously. In his hands it looked like living flame.

After several silent minutes of turning his hand this way and that, he lifted the hand to his Lips and stared at me over it. His eyes were mostly green when I met them, and full of good-natured amusement, as though we were sharing a joke, just the two of us, in Fensalir, in front of the All Father. Carefully, he kissed the hair that was wound about his fingers. “I like the colour.”

After the marriage, a celebration was held in Valhalla, suitable for one who was seen as the brother of the All Father.

As a servant of the lady Frigg, I was quite familiar with such celebrations, and the one in honour of our marriage was like any other in most respects. There was drinking and quaffing of copious amounts of mead, accompanied by extravagant toasts to our future happiness, by those who were still, for the most part, coherent. Massive amounts of food were consumed without hesitation. By the end of the evening, more than half of the revellers lay unconscious at their seats, on the floor, or were gradually sliding somewhere in between the two states.

It was a typical Valhalla evening.

With, I realized, staring into my still-full cup, a few exceptions.

There were the toasts, for one thing. They all referred to myself, or my new husband, or the two of us, or our future children. The lord Bragi made a particularly extravagant one, standing with one foot on the table, gesturing with his cup, and splashing mead on his lady Idun, about hoping, for my sake, that the Trickster’s prowess in bed was equal to his prowess with words.

Those who were still conscious laughed, with the exception of myself and my husband. I blushed and stared fixedly at my cup. My husband raised one eyebrow at Lord Bragi’s display as he drank, and did not rise to comment.

It was strange to be the served instead of the server. I could not feel entirely comfortable as others tended to my needs.

The goddesses of the Aesir came to us, each offering their congratulations and blessing. Each was radiantly beautiful and looked down at me with smiles that never reached their eyes.

Many gods came to offering their blessing and congratulations as well, although I could see more than a few who ended up talking to walls or the floor instead.

The lords Baldur and Hod came together to bless us both. They had not been worsted by drink, and were sincere in their words, wishing us every happiness.

I blushed as the lord of light took my hand, kissing it, and then helped his brother find it to return the gesture. “Thank you, my lords,” I said softly.

“Lady Sigyn, it gives us nothing bu pleasure to see you given the happiness that you so deserve,” Lord Baldur said and, try as I might, I could find no hint of sarcasm or malice in his clear voice and gentle eyes.

“See indeed,” said my husband, his voice dry as flames. His chin rested in one hand, the fingers of the other playing aimlessly with the stem of his cup.

“Such bitterness, Trickster, on this happiest of days,” Lord Hod said, his hand still gently holding mine.

“The good Loki is perchance jealous, dear brother,” said Lord Baldur with a soft smile. “Perhaps you desire a kiss as well, wolf’s father?”

My husband looked at Lord Baldur and, much to my surprise, did not flare into temper as another might have done. As I watched his shrewd gaze travel over the features of the lord of light, I realized with some shock that he was considering whether or not to take Lord Baldur up on his offer.

Finally, he laughed, his sharp face filling with the joy that came so easily to him. He lifted his cup and tipped it slightly in Lord Baldur’s direction. “I think not, Light Lord. In past times, perhaps, but I believe the kisses of the radiant Sigyn are worth thirty of yours.” And he turned as he said it to smile at me before lifting his cup to his lips.

Lord Hod looked puzzled, gently releasing my hand, and Lord Baldur looked surprised, although answering laughter touched his lips and danced in his eyes. With a nod and a few gentle words they both left us.

My husband drank and ate greatly, more than living up to his reputation. Unlike the Aesir, however, he showed no sign of ill-health or ill-humour because of it. Nor did he give any indication of ever being filled and satisfied. He would pause on occasion, to speak a few words to me, or to receive the mixed blessings of our guests with a twisted smile on his lips. After his exchange with Lord Baldur, my husband had little to say to others, although he responded, with easy cheer to the dry good wishes of the All Father that fell strangely upon my ears.

My husband also lowered his cup to speak with the Thunderer, whose face was as red as his hair. He was obviously the worse for drink. I tried not to recoil as he slapped a big hand down on the table between us.

With one hand, my husband steadied his cup. “Hello, Thor. Fancy meeting you here,” he said, eyeing the Thunderer in obvious amusement.

“Little Loki,” he said, rather unsteadily. “Just wanted to give you my, my, uh, my . . .” the Thunderer trailed off, frowning in deep thought, and stared at me.

“Hammer?” my husband suggested. “Belt? Goats? Dirty clothes? Blessings?”

The Thunderer beamed hugely at us. “That’s the thing!” he agreed happily. “Never thought I’d see you get married. Didn’t,” he hiccuped, “think you had it in you. Not after, uh, whatshername, had it a minute ago . . .” He scratched his head.

My husband took a sip from his cup as he waited for the Thunderer to collect his thoughts.

“Angerboda?” I finally suggested quietly, when it became obvious that the Thunderer was not going to remember the name of the giantess, or leave until he thought of it. It was also obvious that my husband had no intention of helping anyone remember the name of his old mistress.

My husband choked on his mead.

The Thunderer turned a massive smile upon me. “That’s the one! Nice lady like you shouldn’t know about such things, though.” He shook an admonishing finger under my nose. I sneezed and didn’t respond. It wasn’t my fault Lady Frigg’s attendants enjoyed gossip.

Setting his cup down with an unsteady hand, my husband glared slightly at the Thunderer. “Thank you, Thor.”

The Thunderer was completely oblivious to the sarcasm in my husband’s voice. He turned his red face on my husband and reached out to slap him in congratulations on the shoulder. “She’s a lovely, lovely little lady. Good choice, Loki.”

I winced as my husband carefully unstuck his face from the table and wiped a bit of food off with his sleeve. “Thank you, Thor,” he repeated through clenched teeth.

I leaned over the table slightly, trying to ignore the greedy gaze of the Thunderer swinging toward me. “I see the lady Idun is replenishing the cups at the end of the hall, my lords,” I announced clearly, trying to make it sound like a simple observation.

The Thunderer immediately turned his head to stare at the lady Idun before stumbling off toward her, mumbling something that may have been a farewell.

I couldn’t be bothered to disguise my sigh of relief as I watched the Thunderer’s retreating back.

My husband rubbed the back of his head, looked at me thoughtfully. Then, he laughed. “Well done, my lady. Although it’s a simple thing to outwit old Thor.”

I smiled back at him and nodded in quiet acknowledgement of this fact.

When my lady Frigg came to us, we were preparing to leave Valhalla. For her we paused, my husband’s hand resting lightly on my shoulder.

“Hello, Frigg,” my husband said cheerfully.

“Leaving so soon, Liesmith?” my lady asked as my husband took her hand, kissing it gently. She withdrew it swiftly, her beautiful face marred by the disgust in her expression.

Slowly, my husband looked around the hall of the All Father with his eyebrows raised. Under a table, the Thunderer emitted a mighty snore. “We though now was as good a time as any.”

“As you wish,” my lady said with a sniff, turning to me. She looked me in the eyes, her own full of sadness and disappointment. She spoke the words that I had known most others were thinking throughout the celebration with a frigid note in her voice. “This is a bad decision on your part, Sigyn. He will only lead you down. You should have said no.”

When we reached the hall of my husband, most of the hurt my lady had left with her words had faded. I followed my husband as he wandered slowly through the empty hall. There was dust on the floor, crumbs of ancient food, scorch marks, scratches, and an occasional scattering of black hair. It was not the sort of place one expected to be the home of a god, even if he was a half-giant. My lady Frigg would not have approved.

I told him, uncertainly, that it wasn’t what I had expected.

Surprised, he looked over his shoulder, and grinned and me. “I suppose it’s nothing like you’re used to. But the only people who ever come here are lunatics, the lost, and Loki. And you, now.” He turned around to watch me as he walked backwards through the emptiness. “I could find somewhere else if you like. If you don’t mind leaving Asgard.”

“No,” I said carefully, thinking of my lady. “No, I don’t think so. I don’t mind staying here.”

Instantly, his face seemed to brighten, glowing, as he smiled at me. He ceased his backwards pacing and darted toward me, grabbing my hands. He kissed them both, laughing, and then tugged. Helplessly, I followed him out of the main hall and into his chambers.

Lying with Loki was like nothing I had ever experienced before.

I could not remember what lying with the All Father was like and so could not compare the two.

I did know, however, that he was far gentler than the Thunderer, moving with almost painful slowness as he undressed me, tracing my skin with dry lips that set me on fire, warming my body up before beginning penetration. He was the soul of gentleness with none of the Thunderer’s drunken force, but almost his equal in enthusiasm. Perhaps all of him that was a giant lay inside of him, hidden and dormant, saving itself for times such as this.

He was not clumsy like Lord Hermod or Lord Tyr. Every action was careful and soft, but full of surety. Were I to give any indication of discomfort, he would instantly stop, but he knew nothing he was doing would cause any intense pain.

Afterwards, he kissed me with startling sweetness before giving a huge yawn and rolling onto his side, falling into a deep sleep.

I pulled the blankets of our bed over him, lay my head on his shoulder, and fell into exhausted sleep next to him.

It was not long after our marriage that I became with child. As a result, it was many years before I returned to Fensalir.

Loki spent much of this time with me, attending to my every need. He said, “They can solve their own damned problems without me, for once,” and in the circumstances, I did not think it tactful to draw attention to the fact that, without Loki in the halls of Asgard, there were probably significantly fewer problems in need of solving.

In time I gave birth to a pair of healthy male babes and named them Vali and Nari, the sons of Loki.

As the children of the gods tend to, they grew by leaps and bounds. They had red hair and eyes of brilliant grass green. They chattered constantly, even before they knew words, and were rarely far apart. They learned to crawl, walk, and fight in the empty hall of Loki. While they were there, it seemed to be filled with life.

Tending to the boys kept me from returning to my lady although Loki returned to his wandering ways shortly after their birth. He would frequently return to his hall, though, and glory in the company of his sons, his own boyish face full of constant laughter.

He was an endless fount of stories - about the All Father, the Thunderer, giants, dwarves, elves, the Lord Freyr, the Light Lord, and, occasionally, when the boys were old enough to speak and beg for specific stories, of himself.

They teethed themselves on his sandals and he taught them to fight with his own simple weapons, although he taught them far more about fighting with their minds and words. He tried to teach them of fire, which never quite settled in their young minds and left the hall looking much the worse for wear, and of illusions.

I, too, taught them what I could, from my knowledge working in Fensalir and of the tales that ran through Asgard on things outside of the realms of the crafty or warlike. I taught them of the creation of the world and the history of the Aesir, of the seasons, fo the world of men, of the names of plants and trees, rocks and flowers. I taught them of medicine and cleaning, proper manners, and cooking.

This was not, I knew, the proper sort of things to teach young gods, but Loki never protested when he was present, and our sons absorbed all the knowledge I had with a bright-eyed hunger.

After Vali and Nari, Loki and I had no more children, although it was not for lack of trying. Eventually, our sons left, to explore all the worlds had to offer, and I was finally able to return to Fensalir. It was not as it had been before.

Before, I had merely been one of the many minor goddesses serving my lady. A goddess in my own right, of course, but still subservient to the lady Frigg, as all those who worked with me were. Now, I returned to the lady Frigg as a goddess with a lord, a husband, who took priority over my duties and loyalty to her. I returned as the wife of Loki Laufeyiarson, the Liesmith, the Trickster, and I was never allowed to forget it.

It is not the fashion amongst the goddesses to openly taunt and mock their compatriots, as it frequently is amongst the gods. And so, it was how Loki’s name was never mentioned, how no one inquired after the children, how they smiled at me with a mixture of pity and disgust in their eyes, that they made their revised opinion of myself, and their unchanging opinion of Loki clear.

I spoke of this to Loki, some days after my return to Fensalir, and he was surprisingly silent for a moment as he digested the information. He had frowned, his eyes darkening. Then, without warning, he laughed and kissed me. He pronounced them fools and swore to me, with a bright smile, that he would make them change their tunes.

I soon learned to put the other goddesses out of my mind as I worked, and I did not think of it again, for many months, until Loki returned to the hall and to bed quite late.

I had already made attempts to sleep, but discarded them instantly as he settled on the bed by my side. I rolled over and stared up into his beaming young face. Reaching up to touch his cheek, I said, “I had thought you were staying in Asgard today.”

“Oh, I did!”

“Then why,” I asked, “are you so late?”

“You’ll love it,” he said with eager certainty, smelling slightly of mead as he rubbed his face against my hand.

I listened quietly as he told me, with hand gestures, about the drinking that had occurred in Bilskirnir between himself and the Thunderer. This was nothing extraordinary as, despite their differences, Loki and the Thunderer were quite good friends. At least, they were compared to Loki’s relations with his other acquaintances. I was quite lost as to why he felt the need to tell me something that occurred quite regularly until he began to describe how he had convinced the Thunderer to disrobe before he began pleasuring the Thunderer with his hands. Apparently oblivious to my shock, he continued his tale, his hand gestures becoming increasingly enthusiastic as he spoke of doing something to the Thunderer for which I had no name.

He took a deep breath, “And then he was completely worn out! You wouldn’t think, a big guy like him, but he just keeled over and went straight to sleep. So I left him to his nap and went to find his wife.”

I managed to squeak: “Lady Sif?”

“Yes, Sif!” he laughed. “I didn’t even have to get her drunk. She was willing as anything . . .” he trailed off uncertainly. “Sigyn? Are you okay?”

I shook my head slowly, staring at him. His face was near mine, quite warm, and his expression was full of concern as he looked into my eyes. It was impossible to believe but he was actually thinking that by sexually gratifying the Thunderer and the lady Sif he would be doing something to please me.

It was impossible for Loki to do the easy or sensible thing when something more challenging and ridiculous was next to it.

I sighed and kissed him on his worried lips. “It is fine, Loki. But why . . .” I trailed off, going red at the very thought of the things he had described.

He kissed me back hungrily, wrapping his arms about me, tasting of warmth, mead, and spices, and it was several minutes before he answered me. “Because they can’t go about thinking they’re better than you after what I did to them.” He grinned wickedly at me before pushing me back down on the bed with a gentle hand.

***

Loki did not stop with the Thunderer and his wife. Every so often, when I least expected it, he would come to bed looking particularly pleased with himself and thoroughly wicked.

Sometimes, he would regale me with the stories in blush-inducing detail, but usually he would merely throw himself into bed, wrap me in his arms, and murmur into my hair: “I seduced all three of Frigg’s handmaidens at the same time,” or “I got Tyr’s lady to do it with me on the floor,” and, occasionally, things along the line of “It took some work, but tonight the brave Tyr let himself be sodomized by the wolf’s father.”

Stories could come as close as days apart or there could be years between incidents. Each one, Loki related with glowing pride, and it was hard to be angry with him or feel jealous when he was only trying to please me in his own strange way.

One night Loki came to bed quite late, and I prepared myself for a particularly elaborate tale. The later he was, the more likely there would be a story to go with his conquest.

Loki threw himself onto the bed and rolled onto his side instantly, so that he was facing away from me.

I turned over so I could see his back. His shoulders were hunched up near his ears and he seamed to radiate sulkiness. I touched one of his shoulders. “Loki?”

He twitched it at me in response.

Terror filled me along with memories of an irate Thunderer threatening to cut Loki’s infernal tongue out if he spoke another word. I grabbed his shoulders and rolled him, forcing him onto his back and sitting myself on his stomach.

All around Loki’s mouth, just above his lips, was an uneven circle of bloody. I wiped it away with a blanket and he shuddered at the sensation. The blood cleared away, slightly, I could see the source of the blood was a collection of long, thick holes, bright red against his pale face. They looked like crude stitching.

He turned his head away from me and stared determinedly at the wall.

“Loki? Can you speak?” I asked, fearful of what damage I could not see.

After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. Then, to prove it, he opened his mouth, very slightly. “Yes,” he said, thickly.

I shook my head and stood. “You stay there,” I said as I left the room, although he showed no desire to move a single unnecessary muscle. I returned with things for cleaning and mending wounds, used frequently in the youth of our sons. I cleaned the bloody wounds as best I could and held clean, damp cloths against them until they no longer came away bloody.

As I set the soiled cloths to the side, I finally spoke. “How did this happen?”

“A damned dwarf,” he snarled thickly. “But, they let him. Those idiots, Thor and Freyr, and that snake Odin.”

He had not answered my question, but it was no use trying to get him to speak anything he did not wish to relate when he was in an understandably foul humour. “You should not say such things,” I admonished gently.

He shrugged at me and rolled back onto his side, to sulk in peace or to sleep, I know not which.

He did not leave his hall for many months after.

I frequently tended to my lady in Valhalla, as she enjoyed the company of her husband. On rare occasions, It would see Loki at these times. After the night he became known as Scarlip, it was a long time indeed before Loki was seen in Valhalla.

At least, he was never there while I was.

On this particular day, all were celebrating the lady Frigg’s cleverness in saving the lord Baldur from being forever banished from Asgard and into the depths of Hel. They celebrated enthusiastically, overflowing with joy, although a small part of me suggested that throwing weapons at the lord of light was far from sensible behaviour, no matter how relieved they felt.

I was serving my lady food when Loki entered the hall.

He gave everyone a cheerful wave of greeting, which no one paid much attention to, absorbed as they were in the game. He laughed to himself and shrugged, wandering into a quieter part of the hall where the Blind One sat by himself, unable to participate in the fun that was being had on account of his mother and brother. I watched, my duty temporarily forgotten as Loki engaged in lively conversation with Lord Hod. As Loki coaxed the lord Hod to his feet, my lady coughed pointedly to remind me of my duty, and I went back to work. When I managed to sneak a look at the pair again, Loki and Hod were standing at the edge of the crowd around Lord Baldur, and Loki was helping Lord Hod aim a crude spear of some sort.

I could hear his laughter as he tried to aim the spear in Lord Hod’s hand when he couldn’t even see over the god’s shoulder.

Finally, apparently giving up on aiming, Loki stepped back and told Hod to let the spear loose. I think. It sailed through the air, anyway, smoothly propelled by the strength o the Blind One’s arm.

There was a spray of red.

The spear buried itself in Lord Baldur’s chest.

It came out the other end.

He fell to the floor.

There was no sound.

Everyone stared at the body of Lord Baldur.

Except for the All Father.

The single eye of the All Father was fixed, unblinkingly, on the figure of Lord Hod.

Next to the Blind One, Loki was still staring at the body of Lord Baldur after everyone was focussed on Lord Hod.

“You could go and ask . . . ask your daughter to let him go,” I said.

Loki ran his fingers through my hair. “No, I couldn’t.”

“Why not? You’re her father. If you asked her to let Lord Baldur go . . .”

“It doesn’t work that way,” he said harshly. Then: “I already asked Odin if he wanted me to. He said no.”

“But his son . . .” I was aghast that the All Father would risk ruining his chances of having his son returned because he felt he could no longer trust Loki.

“He said bringing in ‘parental authority’ would only make things worse. He sent Hermod.”

I made a face and tried to dry my eyes.

Loki sighed and gently wiped my face with his sleeve.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I whispered as he lowered his arm.

“I . . .” he looked unsure of this, as though he did not know the truth himself.

“It was an accident,” I persisted.

“An accident,” he repeated, and the word sounded strange on his lips.

I went to the funeral. Everyone did. Even Vali and Nari were there, paying their respects to the lord Baldur and depositing their offerings upon the pyre.

Everyone was there, except for Loki.

No one told me what had happened.

It was many years after the death of Lord Baldur when the Thunderer came to Loki’s hall. It was the first time I had seen someone there who was not kin to Loki, or myself, and it was not a joyous occasion.

The Thunderer’s expression was conflicted. He was obviously upset, and quite confused, but he also looked relieved. He grabbed my arm.

I tried to pull it out of his hand. “Lord Thor . . .”

“You have to come. It’s about Loki.”

I froze. “Loki . . . ?”

“I don’t know why he did it, it was already over when I got there, and he can’t ever take back some of the things he said. Everyone was really upset. Everyone said something had to be done. It’s not right letting him go about upsetting people, not after everything he’s done. They all said that. Even Father said that. He said Loki had to be punished. Something has to be done so we’re doing it, and you have to be there, everyone agreed, or else it wouldn’t be right . . .” his voice faded dismally as he stared down at me. “We had to do it, Sigyn.”

“Do what? What are you doing to Loki? You can’t kill him, he’s your friend . . .”

Misery won the battle of emotions on the Thunderer’s face. “No. Not kill. We’re putting him away. Forever.”

I couldn’t not go with the Thunderer. We went down, down to Midgard, where it was dark and barren. Snow crunched beneath my feet until I began jumping from one of the Thunderer’s footprints to the next. It was deserted, except for a crowd of gods, all clustered around the mouth of a cave. The All Father was nowhere in sight, and neither was Loki.

There was a scream and I ran into the cave, pushing through the crowd around it, leaving the Thunderer behind.

Deep, deep down, far below the surface of the earth, I found Loki. He was clearly visible by the light of flickering torches.

The room stank.

A giantess held Loki down on a triad of sharp rocks. Above him, a massive serpent coiled and hissed as I entered. My son Vali knelt on the floor, his arms bound behind his back, his eyes full of terror. The All Father stood before him, holding Nari’s head in between his hands as my other son kicked and screamed in an attempt to break free of the All Father’s control.

I had arrived too late. Or just in time. The All Father turned his head slightly to look at me, his single eye meeting mine, and then looked back at Loki, struggling futilely against the giantess.

As I watched, Nari’s curses and screams changed, so slowly that the noise made my insides twist into knots of knots, into loud, animal howls.

The All Father released the red wolf from his hands.

Panicked, the Nari-wolf shook itself, looked about the cave, and growled before swiftly darting forward.

It was already past me, barely audible, when Vali hit the ground. The only sign that it had been there was the trail of blood leading from Vali’s body out of the deep chamber, and the occasional bloody paw print.

I ran to gather my son’s body in my arms, to show it the respect Nari would now never get, for both of them. The All Father’s hand met my head and pushed me back into the wall without a word.

Loki’s curses had stopped making sense shortly after I entered, but they increased in force as he watched this, struggling fiercely without success.

I couldn’t move. Not even when the All Father reached down to tear my son’s entrails from his still-warm body and used them to bind Loki’s body to the rocks.

The giantess released him. Then, she and the All Father left us without a word. As though what happened next didn’t even matter.

It took me a lot of searching, but I eventually found a bowl outside of the cave. It was crude and lopsided, quite small and heavy, left by some now-dead collection of humans.

It was enough.

The serpent that lived above Loki dripped venom onto his face, making him struggle against his bonds with the strength of giants.

It was a brief, blessed relief to hold the bowl high above his head, collecting as much of the serpent’s venom as possible, to allow Loki something approaching peace, for a time.

In the time that passed, Loki, the serpent, and I were occasionally given company. Even with Loki no longer in Asgard, it seemed that things were far from peaceful. Gods, goddesses, elves, dwarves, and even the occasional lost human stumbled upon the cave of Loki, to ask questions and seek advice.

All of the questioners brought their own containers, usually far larger than mine, and I was able to rest, briefly. The Aesir who came to us brought the golden apples as well, dropping them on the ground before me, and I would be able to eat while I rested.

The Aesir never made eye contact with either of us.

Loki’s moods would alternate when no one else was around.

Sometimes he would jest ridiculously in an attempt to hide his pain. Other times he would scream, cursing the Aesir violently with ever fibre of his being. Whenever I had to empty the bowl, the screams he emitted were ones of senseless pain.

On rare occasions, he was quiet and almost-peaceful as he watched me. In the silent moments, it felt like he was waiting for something I could not see. And as he waited, he prayed.