The Purging of Asgard

Chapter 11

You wake none too gracefully, sprawled like a starfish, knotted in your sheets and quilt, hair wrapped around your face. You think about burrowing back under your covers, visiting the man of your dreams again, lazing about the lawns of Asgard, watching your children play and argue and make friends, getting glimpses of the life you'll never have. The ache is too real, the heartbreak from a loss you may not have actually lost. You need to get up. 
You're trying to get ready for work, brushing your hair, brushing your teeth when you realize the ache isn't just heartsickness; your gaze drifts down to an old scar you often forget about, which is surprising, gruesome as it is. Appendectomy? Slipping out of a tree? You don't even remember the cause now.
You stare at it in the mirror, the jagged purple mark on your stomach, ringing a bell from some memory hidden in the back of your mind. You run your finger over the marred skin, hissing as a dull pain shoots across your abdomen. 
That wasn't normal.
"Momma! Váli is being mean again!" You yelp, spinning around to find a little boy, about 6 years old, running to you, latching onto your leg. You look down at his pleading green eyes... Where have you seen those eyes? He looks at you expectantly and you awkwardly pat his head. He’s real… He must be your neighbor's boy. Did any of your neighbors have children?
You have neighbors, right?
"Uuh... Who are you? How did you get in here?" You try to gently extricate the boy from your leg, but he insists on staying where he is,
"Momma, please, he told me there is a bilge-snipe under my bed and that it'll eat me if I don't give him my sweets after supper tonight." He reaches up, wanting you to pick him up. 
Was he calling you 'Momma'? 
"Okay... Come on, let's go find your mommy." You hoist him up to your hip where he clings to you like a koala, and you hobble with him down the hall to your front door, ready to knock on some doors and find this boy's mother.
"Momma, is there really a bilge-snipe under my bed?" He snuggles closer to you, you don't know how to react.
And what was a bilge-snipe?
"Mother, it was just a tease." You hear another voice from behind you.
You spin around and find another young boy, around 10 or 11, "I didn't think he would actually believe me." Even you can tell he's lying,
"Of course he would believe you, he's too young to know any better… Now where do you live?" The boy ignores your question and raises his hands in mock surrender. 
Loki. 
He looks just like Loki when he does that.
"Come on, Narvi, it was just for fun." He says to the frightened boy in your arms. Narvi looks at Váli, considering something, before squirming his way out of your arms and running off with him into the kitchen. You hear them giggle as you follow them, and you could swear that you only lose sight of them for one second,
"Boys, come on now, I need you to help me find your parents. You don't belong--" 
Empty. No one in the kitchen. No one in the living room. No little voices or giggling. 
You check the front door, still closed. 
Still locked.
A chill runs through you, like a draft slithering through your apartment. 
Shake it off. Pull yourself together. The doctors keep saying you're fine. So why are you seeing children running around your apartment? That little one felt real enough, your arm was still a little tired from holding him,
Go back to your room, get ready for work, you're probably just tired, or you were sleepwalking,
"Mitt hjärta..." You spin around,
No one.
"Mitt hjärta, why would you leave me?" The draft picks up to a swirling breeze in your bedroom, a frigid winter wind, biting at your skin and making your teeth chatter,
"You won't hide much longer," a new voice, your turn in circles around your room trying to find the source of these voices, you know them, but you don't know them. Such familiar strangers, "I will find you... My Queen..." 
Hela...
"...Help us!"
"...Save me, lady Sigyn!..."
"...My lady!" 
The voices all overlap, screaming in agony, yelling abuse, cursing you, calling to you. You press your palms into your ears but you can't drown them out, you squeeze your eyes shut, sinking to your knees, 
"Go away..." You whisper, at least you think you do, "leave me..." You curl in on yourself, the voices growing louder and louder,
*KNOCK KNOCK*
Silence.
No voices. No wind. No chill.
The knocking continues. Your front door.

Take a breath, just go answer the door.
"Coming, hold on!" You stumble to the door, pulling yourself together before you open the door to a very worried looking neighbor.
So you do have neighbors.
"Is everything alright?" She asks carefully,
"Of course," you lie, "why do you ask?"
"It's just... And it's probably not of my business..." She stammers, clearly uncomfortable, "you were yelling. Screaming, actually. You sounded like you were in a lot of pain. Just wanted to make sure you were okay." 
"Screaming?" Okay, then, "Oh, that. It was... Uh... Spider."
"A spider?"
"Yeah. Crazy arachnophobic, that's me. But I took care of it. Sorry if I bothered you. But I appreciate the concern." You close the door, perhaps a little too quickly, but you had to get out of here.
You welcome the mundane work of your shop today, you've had enough excitement for the year, bring on the boring workdays.
The bell above your shop door jingles,
"Good afternoon." That voice. You turn around, smiling lightly at your mysterious stranger 
"Good afternoon." You fidget for a moment, getting an idea, "Can I ask a favor?"
"Anything." He says without hesitation,
"Could we... Do you think... Could we talk?"
He pauses, looks you in the eye, and nods.