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Arms of Sorrow
There were those in Asgard who said I must have been mad to remain with the trickster god. It's only now I feel they are right, and the price I paid to find out was too high. It's too much. Oh my children, my beautiful children. Forgive me, please forgive me. I should have run when I had the chance.
She couldn't remember the screams. The only evidence was a hoarse throat much later. Her dress was stained with the blood of the innocent and her hands softly traced the unrecognisable face of her youngest son. The twins were entwined on the cold tiles. Narvi, her sweet Narvi, torn to pieces. Vali, his younger brother, lay with eyes vacant and a sword protruding from his chest. His was face frozen in a twisted expression of fear and pain. The innocent light extinguished from their eyes that were so like hers. He was so cold. Sigyn placed a hand upon his forehead and fresh tears slipped from her eyes. She buried her face in Vali's dark hair and howled with loss.
I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry.
There was nothing left. No chance to ever set this right.
The high palace of Asgard was in turmoil. It wasn't long before knowledge of these events passed into the lower levels, then to the city and finally began to trickle across realms. Chaos was much like fire; give it enough fuel and it will spread and consume. Asgard was awash with rumours and fear. From his prison, the chaos-bringer laughed and screamed, as the first hours of his eternal punishment began.
Night fell quickly. Dark clouds amassed on the horizon. If the mood of the thunder god was any indication, the storm would be a big one. The rains began to fall and drops slipped across the smooth buildings and cascaded to the floors. Not a soul moved in this weather. It was best to let the storm pass. Odin could well understand his son's fury. The distant rumble of thunder broke the Allfather's contemplation. So much had been sacrificed to keep this realm safe, but the innocent always suffered. His heart felt heavy in his chest and his old eye slipped closed. Around him, two ravens glided silently and departed to their observations.
Narvi, Vali. Oh my children. Please no, not this. Anything but this.
The healers could do nothing. Instead they cleaned and stitched. They cleansed the bodies as carefully as they could. Then they retired. Many of them had done such work on the warriors who frequented their halls. But never on children, Eir noted. In all their long history, children had never lain on these tables. The very knowledge of that had turned many of them away at the earliest opportunity, until only Eir was left to tend to the corpses. The skin was cold, she stroked Vali's dark locks away from his forehead as she dabbed at the spots of blood freckled across his skin. She paused as she heard the flutter of wings. A raven sat in the rafters watching intently.
"Hello", she said softly. "Did the Allfather send you"?
The raven blinked, and shifted his gaze. Whichever one it was, it did not wish to be here, at this time for this purpose. She could relate to that. Eir sighed and covered Vali's body with a sheet. Narvi's body was already covered. Even with her skills, the cause of his death was obvious. There was nothing else that could be done. In other circumstances she would have requested a magic user, but that would not do on this occasion. When she turned round, the raven had slipped out, and she heard the cries echo down through the halls. A broken mother's sobs and the one thing she couldn't heal.