Chapter 5 – Face to face with Odin

The field is silent, not a chirp of a bird, not a hum of a bee. On the small hill stands two humans hand in hand, sure that this is a dangerous place to be, but not sure where else they could go. Next to them is the goddess of death, half rotted and with a murderous glint in her one good eye. Fenrir has barred his teeth in a snarl that could have made even the greatest legend-hero run for cover. At the back of the party, Loki lands softly and shifts back to his human form. At Sigyn’s feet lies Mjolnir, the greatest weapon the Asgardians have ever had, brough down but a woman who was no more than a footnote in the old stories.

A few paces away stands Thor in his wagon, Tonngrisnir and Tanngjostr ready and impatient to pull again, to run headfirst at the woman who freed Fenrir with her bare hands. Behind him is Odin on Sleipnir, Freya with her cat drawn wagon and her wings strapped to her back, one armed Tyr on his own two legs but no less frightening for it, Vidar who is matched in strength only by Thor, Frigg, Baldur’s mother and Odin’s wife, Frej, Sif, Idun – who looks particularly pissed – and Bragi, her husband, Eir, Baldur’s son Forseti, Baldur’s brother Hermod, Thor’s sons Magni and Mod and daughter Thrud, Saga, Sjofn, Skadi, even Syn is there to witness the trial of Odin. All of them have turned out to witness what Sigyn has in mind next, and to join in the battle.

Sigyn takes a single step forward. Thor, having never backed down from a fight, even before he had Mjolnir, urges his goats forward again. Sigyn sets off in a run. A few steps past the bottom of the hill they meet. Sigyn is not as spry or quick as she once was, back when she used her muscles regularly, but she is strong. She grabs a hold of one horn from each goat and with all her might she pushes against them. At the very bottom of the hill, the wagon which had been in full speed just seconds before, comes to a complete standstill, and Thor is thrown over the railing. Fenrir is quick to take his chance, and before Thor has had time to realize what is going on, his head is trapped between the mighty jaws of the great wolf.

“What is this!” hollows Odin in shock. “That is supposed to be me! Fenrir is supposed to eat me!” But Fenrir doesn’t bite down, he only just holds Thor there.  

“Your time is over, Odin,” Sigyn calls plainly, her voice carrying easily across the field. “This is not Ragnarök, not unless you push us, and you may live on, if you wish, but not till you bow before us. Bow, and in humility accept the blame that rightfully belongs on you.” Odin’s face hardens at the accusation.

“You threaten me?” Odin calls in a voice so loud it shakes the two humans. Max and Ian look at each other, but they do not flee, even from a battle of gods. To be fair, they are as safe there, next to Hel and behind Sigyn, as they could possibly be in this realm, and even a fool would see that. Of course, survival instincts and all, one has to give them probs for remaining clear headed enough to stay put. “You, who are nothing more than…”

“Than Loki’s wife,” Sigyn interrupts, her voice loud and soaring, like a free eagle. “I know. To you I am no more than the woman who thought Loki could love, I am but a pawn in your games. But you, Odin, son of Bor, you have been a thorn in my side for too long. You took my sons, without a second thought, and you expected me to be fine with it. You expected me to continue as if nothing had happened, but tell me, what did you do when you lost your son? You set all the realms in motion to try to get him back, you, who had willingly used him for target practice just days before! You lost Baldur, and so you had Hod killed, your own son, for the crime of joining in a game! You killed my sons for the crime of being Loki’s children and of no use to you! You kill on a whim, and yet expect us all to bow down before your wisdom.” All calmness has vanished from her voice now. One might call her hysterical and not be too far off. But it works. “My children were not yours to take!” Sigyn shouts with tears in her eyes. “My children were not pawns in your fight with their father! And neither am I!” With a great yank of the chain still in her hand she sends Mjolnir back into the air, soaring high and proud, and then falling, having been aimed at no real target. She yanks the chain back again, making sure the hammer buries itself in the ground and not in someone’s forehead. Bloodshed will only lead to a bloodbath. That much, she knows, is certain.

“If no one else has the courage to stand against you, we will. The people who you have wronged the most, all in the name of Odin the Wise! Well, no more. Your time has come, old man, come and gone, and now you face the music.” And with that she sets off in a run, straight for the army of Asgardians ready to face her.

“She’s mad,” Hel whispers to herself. One woman against all of Asgard.

“She’s fierce,” Fenrir growls almost incoherently. He moves his head to the right, as far back as it goes, and then he tosses Thor as far left as he can. He spits a few times to get the leftover of the ginger beard out of his mouth. “I like her,” he says in the end and leaps forward.

By that time, Sigyn has reached Tyr who, despite the loss of his arm to Fenrir, has not grown any less threatening. But Sigyn ducks his fist punch and grabs a hold of his shirt. She pulls him forward, like a rag doll, and with a small apology (for Tyr really is a decent guy, he never wanted to tie up Fenrir – he is just, unfortunately, loyal to Odin) she throws him as far as she can. He lands but a few meters away, but it is enough to make the Asgardians drop their jaws in surprise.  

“You are out of your mind!” Sif shouts, an almost panic like quality to her voice. “You have been ever since you laid eyes on Loki the first time! An infatuated little girl, and you never grew out of it. You really think you can do this? That it is somehow worth it?” Sigyn stands dead still in the middle of the field, the remaining of the Asgardian army just meters in front of her, her own party so far behind her now. Fenrir stops up too, unsure if he should still attack or not. Sif’s voice loses the panic and turns firm, self-assured. “All of this, for his sake? Grow up, Sigyn, he doesn’t love you. You were a distraction to him, a fun little toy, but you seized to be fun years ago. The proof is right next to you, and you are allying with them over your own people.” Behind Sigyn, where she can’t see him, Loki tenses up at the accusation. He stole Sif’s hair once, at Sigyn’s request, but Sigyn never told him why. Was it the same banter as this? Was this what Sigyn had to deal with from the others, day in and day out? The ridicule, just for marrying him. He never cared about that stuff himself, he had grown used to it over the years, but to hear it now, rain down on his wife.

But no, he cannot allow himself to step in. This time, it is Sigyn’s story, and this time, she is acting it out herself, not asking him to do it for her. His heart swells with pride at the thought. She has come so far.

But Sigyn doesn’t move. She doesn’t respond to the taunts. At first, Loki thinks maybe the inaction is her response, but Sif continues to hail down insults on her, and still, she just stands there, frozen to the spot. The other gods start noticing, and the fear fades off their faces, replaced by a smugness that Loki can’t stand.

“Don’t let her talk to you this way,” he says softly, like a prayer almost, even though she is too far away for her ears to pick up his words. “She was out of her mind when I took her hair, she knew Thor would lose interest the second she was no longer beautiful.”

“You have the most beautiful hair, Sif,” Sigyn says, her voice soft with admiration. Loki looks down at her, almost disappointed. What happened to that beautifully fierce woman who came to him in the night, not a thread on her body, and kissed him without a word – simply because she wanted to. The woman who, though she would never admit it openly, did not care one bit what the others expected of her, what they wanted from her, or what she was supposed to do. That woman had held him, his heart, his attention, his imagination, all of him. Was she really gone? For good?

“But you forget who gave it to you,” Sigyn continues. “As do the rest of you. Mjolnir, Skibblandnir, Gungnir, Gullinbursti, Draupnir, all of it, you have it because of Loki. The wall behind which you cower, that was rebuild because of Loki.”

“And I almost had to pay the price for it!” Freya screams back at her.

“Boohoo, so you almost had to marry someone what wasn’t as beautiful as you. You always do this, whenever something regarding Loki goes almost wrong, you blame him as if it had actually gone wrong. But if he stops one of you from messing up, like he did countless times with Thor, assuring the Jotuns that “Freya” hadn’t eaten in days, and that was why she was eating like a wild animal at the wedding, when he cleans up your messes like that, you simply pretend there was never any mess to begin with, and I won’t stand for it anymore.” Loki stares open jawed at his wife.

“He suffered a thousand years, that is enough. He didn’t kill Baldur, Baldur would still be alive if you guys hadn’t all thought it an excellent sport to use him for target practice. It is time you admit your own faults in matters too, and it is time you stop punishing people just for being associated with Loki. And that goes for all his children, whoever their mother be. Sleipnir too. They all go free, today.”

“And then what?” Odin shouts. No one talks to the king of Asgard like that. “Then the wolf eats me and the worm kills Thor? You would love that, would you not?” This time, he rides forward himself, brandishing his sword. But Sigyn does something utterly unexpected. Rather than try to fight Odin, she merely steps forward and strokes Sleipnir.

“You are his firstborn,” she whispers gently. “You are more than a dumb horse, you are more than what Odin made you into.” The big, dark eyes of the eight-legged horse look into hers. She strokes his neck. Odin digs his heels into Sleipnir’s flanks. Sleipnir stands up on his four hind legs, brandishing his front legs in the air, but not once hitting Sigyn, though she is right in front of him. Sigyn smiles. Odin looks in horror at the steed who has betrayed him.

“I don’t care what Loki said,” Sigyn says loudly. “Sleipnir is not yours to own, he is his own being.” As if on command, Sleipnir falls back to the ground and stands on all eight legs again. He gently muzzles Sigyn, and she strokes him kindly, with the loving touch of a mother. In a fury Odin shouts at his army to “Take her down!” As if on que, Fenrir takes a single great leap and stands right next to her. There is a slight hesitation in the crowd, but Asgardians live to fight, and a wolf isn’t gonna make any of them back down. Freya rises up in the sky on her wings, Vidar leaps forward, Frigg draws her sword. Fenrir snarls, Hel, drawing her own sword, begins the descent of the hill. Left behind is only Max, Ian, and the naked, dumbfounded Loki. He had never, not even for a second, thought it would come to this, to an all out fight between Sigyn and the Asgardians. They were her people, her family, and now she is standing in opposition to them.

Fenrir leaps on Vidar, but Vidar is not caught off guard as Thor was, and an all-out battle ensues between them. Hel blocks Frigg’s sword with her own before it can hit Sigyn.

“Are you sure about this bloodshed rule?” Hel asks through gritted teeth. Sigyn doesn’t reply. If they want to start Ragnarök now, then so be it.

Sleipnir bends his knees and lies down on the grass, Odin still mounted on top of him. Sigyn steps around to Odin’s left side where his sword won’t easily reach. He tries to lunge at her, but the angle of the sword thrust gives her plenty of warning, and so she evades easily. When her closed fist comes flying towards his chin, he is not as fast as her. Her knuckles collide with his unprotected jaw, and his head if forced back. Utilizing the moment, Sigyn grabs a hold of Odin’s right hand, his sword hand, and squeezes till she hears bones breaking. The sword falls to the ground. A giant wolf – though compared to Fenrir, tiny – leaps up at her. Geri and Ferki have joined the fight. Geri pins Sigyn to the ground as Ferki leaps in and closes his jaws around her arm. She howls in pain. Above her something glimmers in the sun. The tread thin chain falls from the sky and lands lightly on top of her. The eagle’s talons reach out for Freya’s wings, but she is too quick and evades Loki easily. Sigyn closes her hand around the chain and grits her teeth. Before Geri can bite down on her, the chain is wrapped around his jaws. He scratches at her with his claws, but with a hard yank on the chain which continues into a hit to Ferki’s temple she manages to rob Geri of his balance and Ferki of his hold on her. A moment later, both wolves are lumped together in one mess of limbs and chain, and Sigyn ties a masterful knot Loki taught her. Who is on her next, she could not say for certain, but whoever it is gets a forceful punch in the stomach. Not long after that an ear piercing scream tells the party that Freya no longer is airborne. The great eagle sweeps down and picks up Odin by the collar of his tunic.

Sigyn sees none of this. She hits someone in the guts, kicks someone else in the knee, and elbows yet another someone in the throat. The Asgardians notice though, one by one, and one by one they stop the earthbound fight. The battlefield becomes eerily quiet. Eventually even Sigyn notices that no one is attacking her anymore.

Loki never wanted to take away from her glorious battle, never wanted to interfere in her big fight, but that bite from Ferki… He knows she will be pissed at him, but maybe that is a good thing. Maybe that will be what it takes to finally break her, to finally make her leave him. At the very least, this way, perhaps she will leave the battle field in the end with all her limbs still intact. The blood is already dripping from the bite marks on her arm.

But Sigyn smiles. Up there, soaring far above all the weapons, all the muscles at play, is her husband, once again thinking up the smart way out.

“You want your king back?” she asks calmly though her heart is still beating frantically. At first no one responds, all of them waiting for an ultimatum. Sigyn knows what the silence means, but she doesn’t know which ultimatum to give. Everything she wants, the freedom of her husband, the safety of his children, only Odin can grant any of that. “Cast away your weapons,” she says. What else could she ask of them than a temporary ceasefire while she bargains with Odin. Reluctantly, very reluctantly, all the Asgardian weapons are thrown into a pile which Fenrir gladly guards.

“What now?” Hermod asks. Sigyn ignores him. She walks back to the small hill, to where Max and Ian are still standing, and Loki follows her, Odin dangling from his claws.

“Here,” Max says and reaches out for her arm. Before she has time to fully realize what is going on, he has tied his shirt around her wounded arm, tightly and expertly. “That should stop the bleeding for now,” he says with a soft smile. Sigyn smiles back. The humans at least seem to still be decent folk.