There is a very old story in which Loki and Sigyn are married. Having gone too far in "a bit of fun," the gods had imprisoned Loki, setting over him a serpent whose fangs dripped poison into his eyes. Sigyn, out of her deep love for her husband, stationed herself beside him, catching the poison in a bowl. But bowls have bottoms and when she goes to empty it, poison falls into Loki's eyes. It is said that his resulting agony is responsible for the earthquakes of Midgard. Loki's sentence is forever, though it is prophesied he will gain his freedom prior to Ragnorak. Sigyn's self-imposed sentence, therefore, is forever, and she accepts it gladly for the sake of her beloved.

This is why another name for Loki is "The Burden of Sigyn's Arms". Sigrid thinks of this story often.

OoOoOoO

I awoke knowing something was wrong. I had been dreaming a warm, comforting dream. It often came to me, this passed month. I dreamed of Loki and I laid curled up together on the couch, a fire crackling in the hearth before us. We did not speak or touch each other intimately. We simply held each other. And I had the sense of a deep satisfaction and joy, as if we had passed through a great trial together.

But when I awoke that morning, that feeling of warmth left quickly. Rolling onto my side, I reached for my husband, but his side of the bed was cold. I sat up, feeling apprehensive.

Something was terribly wrong.

Throwing off the quilt, I swung my legs over and stuffed my feet into my bedroom slippers. The air had a bite to it and threw on my fleece robe as I left the bedroom.

"Loki?" I called into the darkness of our home.

No answer came. Feeble light streamed through the windows. It was snowing, the first fall of the year.

Loki adored the cold. Could he be outside? But what nonsense, though. He had learned early on that he wasn't immune to the cold as he once was. He was human, now, and humans didn't take well to the cold. But I went to the back door and looked out.

The snow had covered everything in a pristine sheet of white. I could see the lumps of my bee houses, my friends fast asleep in their hives. Sudden fear washed over me.

If my bees were asleep, then I could not track Loki's movements. But, no, I had other spells cast over our property. If he were to cross our boundary lines, I would know, and it would be more than waking up uneasy. I would immediately be transported there to stop him. It wasn't the most elegant solution. For instance, when Loki had discovered the spell, he purposefully waited until I was in the shower before running out and crossing a boundary line. The little trickster laughed so hard at seeing me wet, soapy, and naked in the middle of the forest, he almost made himself sick.

Despite myself, I smiled a little at the memory, especially since Loki went out of his way to "make up for it".

I couldn't make out any tracks in the snow, which seemed to have been falling for at least an hour before I awoke. Maybe he had gone out for a walk, after all, and was just slow in coming back? But that explanation did not sit well with me. I decided to play it safe and went back into the bedroom to dress.

We had been living in our little cottage in the English countryside for over a year. In that time, Loki had schooled me in magic as best he could, and I learned in leaps and bounds. It wasn't long before I could reach into a fire without harming myself, though I was long way off from making things from a hearth fire, as my ancestress had done. Though Loki tried to be a devoted husband, a thorough teacher, and a good provider (he worked in the library in the local village), he still became restless. Hence the idea of him leaving in the wee hours of the morning to go for a walk wasn't that far-fetched. But it was well below freezing outside and Loki would not spend long in it.

Once I was dressed warmly, I took a flashlight and trudged out to the stables. Both horses slept in their piles of hay. Ember looked up at me a moment before dropping his head back down to sleep. It taken a lot of doing, getting him to the cottage after we had made our escape. I worried for a whole month afterward that we had caught Fury's attention, but we hadn't. How, I could only chalk up to Eartha's former "colleagues".

Leaving the stable, I paused in the yard, looking around. "Charles," I yelled, using his human name because of the neighbors.

But no answer came. I went back inside, trying not to worry, and put on a pot of coffee. As I puttered around the kitchen, making a light breakfast, I gradually noticed several staples were missing. The box of bottled water had been opened and several of the bottles were gone. Cans of meat, packets of cheese, and other things were also gone, though I could have sworn we had bought them during our last trip into the village.

My stomach cramped with a growing sense of horror. I nearly ran back into the bedroom, yanking open Loki's closet door and flipping on the light. Pushing back the clothing hanging there, I tried to find his camping gear. But it was gone.

"No," I said. "Oh, no."

Running back outside, I went out again to the stables to saddle Ember. It was still dark out and I conjured a witchflame to see by. I sent it ahead as I sent Ember into a canter. Witchflames could be hard to maintain and I knew I would pay for it later. But the only thing that mattered was finding Loki. I believed he loved me too much to abandon me, or to do something that would lead to my execution, and so that only left tragedy. Had Fury found us at last?

I rode Ember all the way to the very edge of our property to a river. I looked around, trying to reconcile how Loki could disappear without tripping my wards.

"Charles!" I yelled. The snow muffled my voice. "Loki!"

But no answer came. Shivering, I turned Ember and began riding around the perimeter of our property. The sun had already crested the tree line by the time I got home and I was so cold when I dismounted, I thought I would shatter like ice if I moved too quickly. After putting Ember away, I went back inside, half-hoping to find Loki at the table with a cup of tea or coffee cradled in his hands, wanting to know where I'd been all morning.

But the house was empty and the smell in the air told me the coffee had scorched. I absentmindedly turned off the machine, reminding myself to buy something more modern next time I was in the village.

Panic fluttered in my gut like a trapped butterfly. My fingers and face tingled as the life returned to them and I began to shake.

He wouldn't, I thought. He wouldn't leave me. He wouldn't just go. He loves me. He wouldn't do anything to put me in danger. He wouldn't. He loves me.

I just kept repeating it to myself over and over as the bitter copper of fear filled my mouth. Slowly, it receded, my heart slowed, and I stopped trembling. He would come home, with a funny story and I would shore up my wards. Perhaps there had been a hole somewhere.

I made myself go through the usual rituals of morning but with one ear out for Loki's footfall or his voice. But neither came. I stood at the back door, looking out. The snow had stopped and the sun was out. The light bounced off the snow, reflecting like crushed diamonds.

"Where are you?" I whispered.

The phone on the wall rang and I jumped. Grimacing at my own foolishness. I picked it up and said, "Hello?"

"They're coming," said a gruff voice.

"Wh-what?"

"This is Sig, ain't it?"

"Yes."

"They're coming. You have three hours."

And he hung up.

My stomach clenched as I hung up the phone. It was a signal, arranged when Eartha's friends made sure we were squared away. They would keep their eyes and ears out and if Fury ever go close, they would call. Loki would always shrug it off if I brought it up, but I had lived in fear of this day. She even went as far as making a sketchy plan of what we would do. Loki had listened, approved it, but I never could shake the feeling that he hadn't taken me seriously.

Now the calll had finally come. And he wasn't here. Loki was gone and I didn't know what to do.