(LOKI)
I wanted no part of it. None at all. I knew better than most that whatever Regin saw, it was his fate to face and not mine.
"Father," he cried, shaking by the time Hriedmar reached the center of the room. "Please, there is no time to waste."
"Calm yourself," Hriedmar said. He put a heavy hand on his son's shoulder and looked into his face without blinking. "Take a few breaths at least."
"How can you ask me to be calm? Didn't you hear me?" Regin yelled for the whole room to hear, "I've seen the carnage. I've felt his…his putrid stench upon my own tongue. Death follows him, and we're the next target. He—"
Hriedmar forced his son's gaze again by raising his otherwise timid voice. "What did you call him? Gorr? What would he want with us?"
Regin's face blanched almost white beneath his dark beard, as if some ghost inhabited his skin. "I saw it all. The death of his world…he prayed for relief from famine and sickness while wandering the failing lands of a realm with no name. Hoped some god or goddess would appear and prove his endless worship wasn't in vain. But his blind faith kept him isolated. Alone, he watched his wife and child perish." Tears streaked his cheeks which he wiped quickly, though they didn't let up. "His pain burned me. Cursed me. Gorr cursed any and all in the higher realms and blamed them for his misfortune, certain no other revenge was possible until he witnessed a battle between gods. He knows we're not invincible. Rage has come alive within him, giving him a power unlike anything I can describe. The last words I heard were a promise of his aim—to rid Yggdrasil of all Aesir and Vanir."
The men surrounding us murmured in flat tones and a thick cloud of uncertainty settled over us. I searched Freyr's face for anything—assurance that the boy was mad, for instance—yet he looked at the floor, not at me. A bead of sweat came across his temple and was quickly lost within his beard.
No, Uncle…surely, you don't believe this nonsense?
A frantic young woman entered behind the older minder who announced what had been seen in the women's room. Her flowing golden hair made the blue of her dress even more vibrant, like spring flowers that had opened only hours before. They matched her eyes. Lighter than Vali and Sigyn, yet unmistakably beautiful just the same. She panted while standing in place by the door.
"Idunn," Regin said, rushing through the crowd to reach her. Their embrace sent my own heart to the base of my throat. "You saw it, too, didn't you?"
She wept into his arm and clutched him tight enough to make her fingernails appear like daggers piercing his leather ensemble. "I'm frightened."
"Nothing will happen to you. If I have to send you far away—"
"No, I won't do it," she screeched, pulling him in even tighter. "Did you see his sword? It's part of him. A monster."
Hriedmar clapped only once, yet it was as jarring as a crack of thunder, and everyone turned to face him. "My people, we must have faith of our own. If he means to challenge us, let him come. I fear no foreign threat when we have magic on our side."
"So does he," Regin yelled, caressing Idunn's hair as she continued to sob against him. "She's right. He and his weapon are one being. It's more than a sword—spikes emerge from his body with minds of their own. There's no way to disarm him. The best chance we have is to call a council of defense and ask the river for assistance."
The men erupted into yells at this, some in support of Regin's vision and the need to use their greatest resource, and some who vehemently argued that the river was not to be trifled with after already giving Regin and Idunn a glance at the future.
I shook my head and turned my back to them, weaving between the ever-closing crowd to find the exit.
"Loki—" Freyr said, following me as closely as he could. "Where are you going?"
"To find my sons and go home. This isn't my fight."
Once I had escaped to the hall, he pulled my shoulder to a halt. "You're wrong. This belongs to all of us."
I yanked back. "No. I have a family now. I made promises to keep my eyes on them. To protect them."
"And what of the promises you made to me? To the rest of Vanaheim? You're allowed to stay here without consequence of what lies in your past; therefore, you're sworn to protect her where you are suited. The time is now."
"This sounds like something more suited for my former brother. If this is a battle of Vanir and Aesir, and let Vanir and Aesir defend their own land and people."
He scoffed. "You may be Jotun, Loki, but your sons? Your Sigyn? Think evil in our universe would spare them because you declare your house exempt?"
"I refuse to put myself or my family at risk for a threat I cannot see. I am sorry, Uncle, but the boy's vision will have to stand on its own. Should you and Hriedmar grant more men the chance to see their futures, I have no doubt they will know every move of this supposed god butcher before he appears. My children and I will return to our fortress tomorrow, with or without you." I clenched my jaw and marched from the court hall, determined to pack our things for an early departure from The Don City and involvement in another man's destiny.
Freyr didn't bid us goodbye. Didn't even sleep on the cot put out for him next to mine, as if he hadn't rested at all after the scene in the court hall. Rumors were already buzzing around us by the time Vali and Narvi awoke. They grumbled at the news that we'd be returning home sooner than expected, and Narvi let out a rare protest for being hitched to my back since I no longer had a companion for him to ride with.
The boys made a game of our travel regardless. They spoke in a strange invented language which made me smile, though my mind felt detached from everything in the moment, as if it wasn't genuine. I knew where we were going, but it was like being stuck in an illustration instead of seeing it with my own eyes.
Was Freyr right? Were my sons targets because of Sigyn's ties to Asgard? I spent the majority of their lives so concerned about what would happen in the future when they discovered their Jotun heritage that I'd never considered their other halves could pose a threat—though I had no reason to. No one would dare challenge the Aesir as a whole. They were set apart by their strength for a reason. Odin ensured all were perpetually prepared for battle and famously so.
It made me wonder—did Thor know anything about this Gorr character? Or was he fabricated for Regin's trials with Idunn, as I suspected? Either way, it didn't concern me.
When we camped late that evening and the boys fell asleep beside the crackling embers of our fire, I stepped into the clearing and found Mother's star again. She twinkled, sending beats of reddish gold and white to say hello.
"Should I ask Thor?" I whispered, not even certain how I might do such a thing.
She didn't change. Flicker, Flicker.
Vali cooed in his sleep and turned over, making Narvi groan and kick to regain his space.
I chuckled at the sight of them, but my heart dropped. Their innocent faces, fair and unblemished, didn't deserve to know pain. If I did nothing and they were injured or lost, could I forgive myself?
I sighed and stared at Mother's star again. What held me back was less a sense of duty to stay out of foreign quarrels and more a concern that my involvement would hurt the cause somehow. Times when I'd tried to impose my magic and failed made up my dominant memories. Sure, Freyr said I owed my skills to Vanaheim now that she was in need, but would he still agree if my nature got the better of me and I took the lead despite whatever destruction it might leave behind?
"I wish there was an easy answer here. How can I know if I would do them any good?"
She was oppressively silent. Telling me to find my own answers. Assuring me that I had all the tools to know precisely what to do. And she was right, of course, like she always was.
Have I finally earned the right to ask Yggdrasil to show me the next step?
The second day of travel was much like the first, though the boys made me stop more often than when we were with Freyr, delaying our arrival back at the fortress until well after moonrise. Vali and Narvi slept against me when I rode in and found Sigyn rocking in the swing behind our home.
"Shh," she said, creeping toward me to carry the children in one at a time, careful not to wake them. Years of putting them to bed taught us that conversation had to wait until they were both settled, or our voices would wake them.
I dismounted and tied the horse to our back gate, determined to return him to his owner on the north side of the fortress the next day as the hour was late. Our satchel of gifts and leftover supplies was substantial enough to give grief to my shoulder—the perpetual injury that refused to repair. Lifting the boys onto the animal hadn't helped, and I worried I would awake too stiff to be useful the next day.
All the more reason not to volunteer to fight. I wasn't the warrior I once was.
Sigyn met me in the front room of the house after the boys were settled and wrapped her arms around my waist from behind. "You're here a day early. What a pleasant surprise."
"You're being gracious." I patted her hands and turned around to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry you weren't given as much time to yourself as I promised you."
"Don't be ridiculous. I missed you more than I anticipated."
She stirred wings in my belly as she always did. "Time away…a lovely return makes." I kissed her gently while pulling her against me, gripping the loose fabric of her smock over her taught lower back. Seeing Regin with his young bride to be reminded me of how precious these quiet moments were, and I was acutely aware of how such times were beyond rare as the boys grew older. Opportunities could not be wasted. But I was too distracted by the gnawing worry of what if? to comfortably engage with her the way I wanted to. "I'm sorry to be distant. I'm travel-weary."
"Hmm. Come to bed," she said, not pushing for more than an opportunity to rest. "I'll need a husband at full strength tomorrow to help me wrangle those boys."
I followed her with a smile, but no matter how many times I startled awake and fell asleep again, my dreams remained the same—a shadow fell over my form and sang to demand my presence. It called to me. It cried for me.
No monster. No great god butcher. A tree. Vidar were calling.
The river had spoken.