“So you won’t be going back?”
“Oh, I will. I’m just going to get better at not caring.”
“You’re a fool,” said Angrboda, clenching her fists in her lap. “It’ll be the same if you go back. I don’t know how I can be of any further help to you if you insist on remaining in Asgard. It’s not going to end well.” She gave him a pleading look. “This will keep happening, Loki. I say this only because I—I care for you.”
She wished she could take back the words—Loki had always seemed to her to be the type to flee at the first mention of feelings, and she wasn’t particularly keen on discussing such matters, either—but her words were true enough, so she let them linger in the air between them.
Loki suddenly regarded her with suspicion. “Wait. You . . . don’t find me repulsive? You don’t think—what I did, what I can do, it’s not something—?”
Angrboda rolled her eyes. “If that were the case, do you think I would’ve spent the entire winter literally and figuratively cleaning up after you?”
“I—well, I mean—”
“You seem to have lost your way with words, Sly One.”
He glowered at her. “Everyone else—”
She placed a finger over his lips. “From now on, once you cross this threshold, you must either stop caring—as you said you would—or bring your bothersome feelings elsewhere. Do I make myself clear?”
“Are you saying that it’s bothersome that I have feelings, or that I should single out specific feelings that are bothersome and leave those at the door?”
Angrboda thought for a moment. “The second one.”
“And who gets to determine that?”
“I suppose you do.”
Loki stuck his tongue out and made to lick her finger, but she pulled it away and glared at him. He just grinned at her.
“Did you hear a word I just said?” she demanded.
“Yes.”
“Then what did I say?”
“Feelings at the door. I shall do so on one condition: that I can bring inside the most bothersome ones.”
“That’s no condition at all,” said Angrboda, cross and not a little offended. “You really weren’t listening to me, were you?”
“Of course I was,” Loki said lightly, brushing an invisible speck of dirt off his pants. He paused and considered his next words, which was not something she recalled seeing him do before. “I just figured you might want to make an exception for these particular feelings, bothersome though they may be . . . because they’re about you.”
Angrboda stared at him. He stared back at her, and for once he seemed to be absolutely serious.
“What? I care for you as well,” he said. “As much as I hate to admit it. Caring about things makes life more complicated, doesn’t it? Best not to care about anything at all, in my opinion. And then you came along. I find it quite bothersome indeed.”
Angrboda was taken aback by his response, which she had assumed would be an attempt to change the subject. Suddenly she was the one who wasn’t ready to have this conversation, and yet here they were, and she had started it.
“Do you, now?” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “Is this a game to you, Loki? You found me, you’ve shown up time and time again to bother me and insult my hospitality, you mock me for being uninteresting—”
Loki started to say something, but she cut him off.
“And yet somehow I believe you,” she finished. “You may be made of jests and cleverness, Loki Laufeyjarson, but there are some things even you cannot hide.”
Like the way I’ve seen you look at me.
“Some feelings, you mean,” he said, sighing. “I suppose I must get better at hiding those. But for now . . .”
Angrboda found she couldn’t sit still under his gaze, and she got up. Put some more kindling on the fire. Sat back down under the blanket with him. He moved closer to her, and she turned and looked at him again.
“If I’m such a bore, why are you still here?” she asked slowly.
“You’re not a bore. I’m all jests, remember?”
“Still. The fact that you’ve kept returning means something.” She moved her hand up to place it on his shoulder. She couldn’t look him in the eyes, afraid her words would fail her.
“What more would you have of me?” she asked. So much for locking all my bothersome feelings away at the bottom of my cursed heart.
“I would have all of you,” he said quietly, brushing her nose with his. “I would have everything.”
Said cursed heart seemed to have jumped up and settled itself in the general vicinity of her throat, and Angrboda glowered at him and twisted away.
“You’re going to break my heart with this business with the gods,” she said thickly.
“Break your heart? I would never,” said Loki, affronted. “I was the one who gave it back to you, remember?”
“So you did,” Angrboda replied, “but—”
He cut her off with a kiss, which she returned without even thinking—like it was something for which she’d been waiting a million years—and she knew he felt it, too, because as soon as their lips made contact, it was as though some floodgate inside of her broke, and emotion overcame her like a wave and she couldn’t stop it no matter how hard she tried. Which was, admittedly, not very hard.
She didn’t know what sort of emotion had been loosed, but despite the repressed longing that had been building in her chest, it seemed as though her excitement was laced with trepidation.
What am I doing?
Somehow she couldn’t make herself care. Her eyes squeezed shut as she wrapped her arms around his neck, as she felt his hands on her hips, pulling her closer, then pushing her—gently, but insistently—down onto her back. It was as though her hands were moving on their own, sliding off his green tunic and tossing it aside. One of his hands was moving up her thigh, bunching her dress, pulling it up to her waist as he kissed her so powerfully that she couldn’t move to sit up.
And the manner of that action struck a chord, somehow—perhaps it was a fear of being used again, but suddenly she felt the tiniest mote of regret for letting things get to this point.
Angrboda pulled away.
Loki reared back from her, confused. “What’s wrong?”
She propped herself up on her elbows and, rather than trying to work out her anxieties in this particular moment, said the first thing that came to mind: “I meant what I said, you know. You’re going to break my heart.”
“Of course I’m not,” he said petulantly, rocking back on the bed to balance on his knees, now wearing only his pants. “If your prophecy magic is telling you that, it’s a poor judge of my character.”
Angrboda shrugged and didn’t look at him.
He leaned forward again and kissed her, less forcefully this time, and ran a long finger along the line of her jaw as he pulled back again. Then he gave her that half-lidded look that had sent her heart fluttering a few times before and said huskily, “How could I repay your kindness in such a way?”
“I don’t know,” she murmured. But the answer didn’t matter. Not really. Not anymore.
She wanted this as much as he needed it.
And on the off chance he was telling the truth about such feelings for her, they would cross that metaphorical bridge when they came to it.
She sat up, reached over, and untied the drawstring on his pants as deliberately as she had pulled the bits of cord from his lips those months ago—only this time she moved slowly, not out of regard for him, but to make him squirm. He was still on his knees, and his breathing quickened as she worked. When she looked up at him, her own mouth twisted in a way to which she was unaccustomed.
“You’re smiling,” he pointed out, surprised.
Angrboda’s expression went blank again, and she demurred. “Was I?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.”
“I’d like to make you do it again.”
“I’d like to see you try.” Angrboda pulled her dress over her head and cast it aside so she was left with nothing to cover her except the long hair that fell over her breasts, obscuring them.
Loki stared and continued to stare as he settled over her and brushed her hair aside. He didn’t ask about the scar on her chest—maybe he realized what it was from, or maybe he was too distracted to comment on it. Or to comment at all, for that matter.
“You seem to have lost your way with words again, Sly One,” she said for the second time that night, but this time the words caught in her throat and sent a shiver of excitement through her.
He seemed to snap out of it then, but his eyes didn’t leave her as he got his pants the rest of the way off and kicked them aside. He looked her in the eyes and grinned.
“I don’t think I need them anymore,” he said, and kissed her again.
I will give you whatever you need, Angrboda decided then.
After all, you gave me back my heart.
* * *
• • •
Angrboda was more tired than she remembered ever being, but still she did not sleep. Every time she began to doze, she was kept awake either by her heart fluttering madly in her chest or by Loki’s lips somewhere on her body. By the time dawn came he was sprawled half on top of her, snoring into her hair.
The fire had nearly died and there was sunlight streaming through the chimney hole. Angrboda had almost drifted off again when there was a loud knock on the door, followed by Skadi shouting, “Angrboda! Are you awake? The sun’s been up for hours!”
“Wake up,” Angrboda whispered to Loki, shaking him. He lifted his head groggily and blinked at her. At her insistence, he rolled off her and stumbled to his feet, muttering to himself.
Angrboda shoved him toward her storage area in the back of the cave and gestured for him to crouch in the shadows behind a chest and some baskets. “Just until she leaves. Please—I know it will be a challenge for you, but try to keep your mouth shut.”
Loki made an indignant noise but did as he was told.
Skadi knocked again. “Hello?”
“Give me a moment!” Angrboda called, throwing some kindling on the dying embers of the fire to make it look like she’d been awake for longer than she had.
“I have to piss,” Loki complained in a low whisper from behind the chest.
“You’ll have to hold it until she leaves,” Angrboda hissed back as she wrapped one of the blankets around herself and kicked their discarded clothing under the bed.
When she opened the door, she was greeted not just by Skadi, but by another giantess as well, who was carrying a basket of plants. Angrboda pulled the blanket tighter around her body and raised her chin. She could only imagine how she appeared—having Skadi see her so indecent was one thing, but a stranger, too?
Skadi was dressed, as always, in a man’s tunic and pants. Since the autumn weather was unseasonably warm, she had abandoned her usual kaftan for thinner wools and forgone her furs altogether, though she still wore a cap and her leather hunting boots with their pointed toes.
“Good morning,” said Angrboda.
Skadi looked her up and down and raised an eyebrow. “Rough night?”
“You could say that,” said Angrboda, brushing her sex-tousled hair behind her ear in what she hoped was a casual way. “Can I help you?”
“We brought you some of the ingredients you need,” said the other woman, who was regarding Angrboda with something not unlike disapproval. She was young and very pretty, but her disposition did not seem to match.
“Angrboda, this is my cousin Gerd,” said Skadi. “She lives near the mountains, and has a great garden and grows many plants. Her mother is a fine weaver and her father has hundreds of sheep. Most of the plants and fabrics I trade to you are from her—she was interested in finally getting to meet you.”
“Though I mistook the long hike for a short walk,” Gerd grumbled, wiping the sweat from her brow and smoothing back her loose, mousy hair. She was a little shorter than Skadi, but rounder, paler, softer, and dressed in much finer garments. If not for the slight traces of dirt under her fingernails, Angrboda would have guessed the girl had never done a day of work in her life.
Skadi just smirked. “Gerd, this is Angrboda, the witch of whom I’ve spoken.”
“It’s a pleasure,” said Angrboda.
“Charmed,” said Gerd, who seemed more interested in trying to see over Angrboda’s shoulder. “Is there a man here?”
“Perhaps. Then again, maybe it’s a woman,” Angrboda replied, looking her dead in the eyes. “Is that a problem?”
“Is he your husband?” Gerd asked, staring right back at her.
“How do you know they’re a ‘he’?” Angrboda said placidly.
Skadi’s face twitched just the slightest bit, but she said nothing.
Gerd looked confused. “If you’re going to lie with a man, you should be married to him. But I take it you’re not married, witch, else you wouldn’t be living in a cave.”
Angrboda looked to Skadi. “You keep the most charming company.”
“She’s family,” Skadi said with a shrug. “But you know I’ll trade with anyone.”
“Even loose sorceresses, it appears,” said Gerd.
“Just give her the plants, Gerd.” Skadi sighed, rubbing her temples, and Gerd obeyed her with a huff.
Angrboda took the basket primly and held it to her chest to keep the blanket from falling off and revealing her nakedness. “Thank you.”
Then Skadi’s brow furrowed as she stared at something just above the basket—and Angrboda realized with a start that it was the scar on her chest that had drawn her friend’s attention, and she moved the basket up to cover it. Gerd was too busy staring around the clearing with distaste to notice.
Skadi gave her a questioning look. Angrboda returned it with one that clearly said, Another time.
Angrboda then invited them inside for a meal, but both women declined and departed. As soon as she shut the door, she heard a huge sigh of relief from behind her, followed by the sound of urine hitting an empty ceramic jug.
“Will you live?” she called idly to the back of the cave as she set the plants down on the table and took off the blanket, tossing it back on the bed.
“Fortunately for you,” Loki said when he was done, and wandered over to her. “Rest assured that the entire time those two were at your door, I was cursing your name.”
Angrboda snorted and took to sorting the plants. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have had so much ale last night.”
“It was my first day as a man after months as a horse,” said Loki. Still naked, he stretched in the lazy, self-assured way of a cat before putting his arms around her waist from behind. “Do you always walk around naked? I should visit more often.”
“On the contrary, I’m generally fully clothed, despite living alone.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Perhaps I would be more disposed toward nakedness if you did visit me more often.”
“Then perhaps I can take you up on that.” He breathed the words into her temple. “It was a good night.”
“It was,” she said, and turned to face him.
They kissed, but Loki pulled away after a moment or two and said, “Perhaps Skadi’s cousin was right. Perhaps I should marry you.”
“Pfft. And what makes you think I would have you?” she asked, but her heart leapt.
“Well, you’ve already had me. Every which way, I might add, but I’m sure we could find some more.”
Angrboda considered this as she put her arms about his shoulders, and found that her previous fear of being used had dissipated enough that she could joke about it in tones of fake seriousness: “Bu
t you’ve taken advantage of me already of your own accord. Now it would be your duty to take advantage of me, as my husband.”
“And usually I’m not one for such responsibilities, but I think I may be able to handle this particular obligation,” he replied, just as seriously.
“Don’t the Aesir have responsibilities? As gods to the humans and such?”
“Eh,” said Loki. “I only became Odin’s blood brother for lack of anything better to do. I figured that gods did interesting things. It was for boredom, mostly.”
Angrboda brought her hands up and pushed his wild hair behind his ears. “Or for loneliness?”
“Maybe,” Loki said shiftily. “Boredom and loneliness often coincide.”
“I understand.”
He pressed his lips together and ran his finger down the scar in the middle of her chest, and she tensed eagerly at the memory of his rough lips on it last night.
“But it’s a small price to pay for freedom,” he said, seeming lost in thought, “which I no longer have as I used to. At least, that’s what it feels like lately, being among the gods.”
Angrboda nodded.
“I tire of control,” he went on. He put his other hand on the small of her back, pulled her to him. She kept her arms around his shoulders. “But I don’t want to be alone.”
“I see.”
“And you’ve never tried to control me.”
“I haven’t.”
“And you care for me.”
“Perhaps against my better judgment, but yes.”
“You don’t care what I do, as long as I come back eventually.”
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly . . .”
Loki put his forehead to hers. “So will you be my wife?”
Angrboda pulled him closer. So much had happened, and so quickly—but she couldn’t deny what she had felt for him even before this, though part of her was still convinced that he was going to suddenly back away and tell her it was all a joke.
But when he only continued to look at her, she realized that she could get used to seeing this strange expression of utmost sincerity on his face, and she knew her answer.
“I would be honored,” she said at last.
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