The Family Lokison (Part 4)

First of Many (LOKI)

The Vanir made quick work of resettling, somehow managing to find or make shelter before the sun disappeared. Grid and Freyr, ever mindful of my needs and Sigyn's, didn't claim the first structure they built for themselves and gave it to us. Back to a handmade, folding string cot and a tent barely big enough for us to stand while hunched over, but it was familiar enough to ease the inevitable homesickness plaguing everyone.

Sigyn had barely moved from her place on the ground where she'd hugged Vali earlier, still wide-eyed and staring into the distance while Tiwaz occupied her lap. She sat on her knees and had to have lost all sensation in her feet long ago. A tear or two would paint her face now and then—enough for me to notice, but not enough for her to bother wiping away—and I told Vali to let her be until she was ready.

What that meant, I wasn't sure, yet it seemed the wisest advice I could give him.

Vali surprised us all by doing everything he was asked without question. When the Vanir found a spring of safe water to distribute, he volunteered to carry vessels back to the Aesir, earning their respect and learning their names one by one. Just like I'd taught him. A wolf, but a leader. He seemed to understand that I had reduced capacity for keeping him busy, so he defaulted to going to Grid and Freyr for new tasks, leaving me to ready the tent for Sigyn.

I couldn't bear to see Narvi's name every time I looked at my left vambrace, so I changed into my simple tunic which was thankfully rescued from Asgard along with our other most prized keepsakes from home. We didn't have much, but what we did have was more valuable than anything that could make the circumstances cozy. Dressing in simple clothing reminded me that, with the exception of Thor's position, the rest of us were equal. Orphans and refugees. It was how Sigyn always preferred to see me, and now, it was how I preferred myself.

It was past dusk when I was ready to take her in. I gently squeezed her shoulder from above. "Gin, can you hear me?"

She nodded with slow precision. A metronome with no words.

"You need to rest. Hold me here." I knelt and directed her right arm around my neck. She was barely more rigid than raw dough and weighed more because of it. I scooped her against my chest and brought her between the drapes closing our tent, gently resting her on her left side. I already prepared a small bundle to place between her knees so she'd be comfortable and lay behind her. Just the two of us.

I removed and re-weaved her small plait over and over again while sobbing against her. She simply wept. If I could've kept my vow—the one to sacrifice my life in exchange for the lives of my children—I would've done so without a moment of hesitation. Sigyn likely felt the same, though I couldn't bear to hear her say such a thing or even entertain the possibility. Her heart could very well break and end her life, and Hela's, if we weren't careful.

The only thing she actually said, over and over, was a muttered, "I'm sorry," deep into the night. She wouldn't hold my hands at all, and clutched her right fingertips in her left palm even when fast asleep. Whatever happened in the palace, whether physical or emotional, she couldn't let go.

Morning brought with it news that human survivors were discovered, and they soon joined our growing civilization, though it took more than simple explanations for them to truly grasp what had taken place. As I predicted, they witnessed a complete transformation of their world, and our magic, language, and customs were comical to them. Those who made it through the disaster weren't simpletons, though, and they had ideas of their own to share.

After all, candlelight and torches were antiquated and deficient in their eyes. Their very hearts relied on predictable electricity; with their knowledge and our gumption, we'd integrate that which we knew with their modern contributions. Science and magic would re-root New Yggdrasil in equal measure.