Day: March 9, 2014

My beloved sleeps

I am nearly too weary to tell the tale of how we came here. Where in the nine realms are we? Or are we somewhere beyond the realms? I do not know…

My beloved sleeps. I can scarce fathom it, but our fates are entwined now, for good or ill.

After that she-beast Gunnehilde tore her away from me, I was for a while cast down in spirit. Then I became angry. How dare anyone mistreat sweet Sigyn? I vowed revenge.

I engaged all the vast powers of my mind and all my magics, seeking to locate where she was being held. At last I had a vision of her locked away in a cheerless room. Summoning all my art, I forged a portal through the void from myself to her. Gunnehilde must have some powers of her own, for I was resisted by a wall of magic. Undaunted, I battled on and at last managed to breach the wards, take her hand, and step back into my portal, slamming it shut behind us. Knowing that I and my magic could be traced if I returned to my known haunts on Midgard, with the last of my failing strength I flung us out and away. Buffeted, we hurtled through fire and lightning, through darkness and nothing.

We landed here, but I do not know where “here” is. It appears to be a transport hub of some sort. It may be that we can seek passage on one of these flying craft. My magic is spent–I cannot carry us anywhere. In truth, I do not care where we go, so long as we are safe.

We are both weary beyond words, battered in body and spirit. I found us something to eat. Its name means “sustaining banquet” in one of the Old Languages, but it appears to be nothing more than a cold, sweetened dairy product. No matter. She is too tired to eat and barely speaks.

I, Loki, who answer to no man and have always done whatever pleased me, now wonder if I have done the right thing. I am unused to questioning my motives. Was it noble of me, or selfish? Will she thank me for rescuing her from an unwanted marriage, or hate me for taking her away from her sister and the life she knew? She rests now, with her head in my lap. What a strange thing it is, to be trusted even a little. Sleep, my love. I will not fail you.

Advertisements