Sigyn's Story: Stand By Your Man
as told to me by Sigyn
(from "Feeding the Flame: A Devotional to Loki and His Family" by Galina Krasskova)

I was so scared when I first saw him.

Then again, I was still scared of everyone and everything.  My foster-family, Njord and Ingvi and Freyja, they were kind enough, but not everyone was so kind.  I knew the Aesir regarded me as an "outlander", fine, I am, but outlanders are deserving of respect too.

And then there was The Time of the Void, as I call it.

When I first saw him, I was scared.  I wasn't used to strangers taking interest in me, least of all one as nice-looking as him.  I was afraid he was going to mock me like others had.  What would someone so good-looking want with a plain little kid like me?

And then I looked into his beautiful aqua-colored eyes and saw the slow smile on his face as he chattered to me, and I knew.  I knew that he was mine.

Time and time again he came back to my foster-father's house (well, not really a house, more like a palace, but the Vanir tend to be less grandiose than the Aesir about titles and such), supposedly on business, but I knew it was to see me.

When he asked for my hand, I was not surprised.



I remember walking through the great forest, alone, cold, hungry, tired, and afraid.  Afraid from what had just happened.

I was in a hut with my mother.  She never treated me that well, usually flung insults and curses at me, occasionally hit me, because "you're just like him, that bastard who got me knocked up with you".  I was preparing dinner and I saw my mother get out a big knife.  I thought it was for meat.  Instead, she pushed me against the wall and pressed the knife to my throat.  "YOU FREAK!  HALF-BREED!  YOU DON'T BELONG WITH THEM, YOU DON'T BELONG WITH ME!  I HATE YOU AND EVERYTHING THAT YOU ARE!"  She was shaking, and sweating profusely.  I saw the fiendish gleam in her eyes, and I feared for my life.

"Mommy, please don't hurt me," I cried.

And then I touched her, lay my hand on her hand gripping the knife, and there was a flash of white light, brighter than anything I have ever seen to this day.  A deep vibrating thromming sound.  I heard the knife clatter to the floor, and I ran as fast as I could.  I ran and ran and ran, down the path, through the village, until I was deep in the woods.  It was dark then, and the howling of the wolves was frightening.  The sharp crack of every twig I stepped on was frightening.  The rustling in the bushes was frightening.

I walked as far as I could go, then stopped a moment to rest.  I found a big rock to sit on, and the tears came.  Then I heard the humming of a melody I'd never heard before.  It got closer, and closer, and there was a tall, lean-muscled man standing there, young, with long blonde hair, and a kind smile.  He was carrying a walking stick, and he was bathed in a kind of golden aura.

"Why hello there," he said.  "Are you lost, little girl?"

I couldn't respond, I was crying too hard.  So he came over and put his hand on my shoulder.  The panic came then, I was afraid he was going to take me back to my mother, or drag me off somewhere and hurt me for being "different".  I screamed, hopped off the rock, and ran.  He chased behind me, and when I had to pause for a minute from my sheer exhaustion, panting, he locked his arms about my waist.

"You don't need to be afraid, sweetheart," he said.  "I'm not going to hurt you."

Something deep within me told me to trust him, after all, nobody had called me "sweetheart" before, usually something else, something more vulgar, so I said, "Everybody else does."

He nodded.  "What's your name?"

"Sigyn."

"I'm Ingvi."  He smiled again.  "Would you like some hot chocolate, Sigyn?"

I nodded, even though I didn't know what hot chocolate was.  Ingvi held my hand and we walked a little bit, till we came to this gigantic beast, all golden, with a huge snout and tusks.  He looked at me, cocked his head to the side, and snorted.

"What's that?"  I had never seen anything like that before.

"It's my boar, Golden Bristles."  Ingvi patted my head.  "Climb on his back, and he'll give you a ride."

I climbed on the weird thing's back, and it snorted.

We traveled for awhile, and finally in a stone circle, Ingvi drew some symbols in the air and sang, and we seemed to go "poof", and then "pop" back into reality, at a huge house by the sea.

My jaw dropped open.  Ingvi chuckled to himself.  "This is my father's house," he said.  "You'll like him."

And the next thing I knew, young women, probably their servants, were all over me, wrapping me in a warm blanket, combing my hair, and making me a cup of hot chocolate, which I found to be the most delightful beverage in all of the Nine Worlds.

The next few days passed in a blur.  Ingvi's father, Njord, introduced himself to me, and said he would be taking care of me from now on.  I winced, and looked around for doors so I could run away.  I didn't want anyone "taking care" of me, I knew all too well that resulted in pain and danger.

Njord must have noticed this, because tears came from his eyes, down his cheeks.

I had never seen anyone else cry before.  I knew I cried, and cried a lot.  But other people where I come from -- they don't cry.  Really.

"My baby," he said, and held me close.

Then we cried together.

Njord took me out to the beach, to watch the high tide rolling in.  "You see that," he said.

"That's nice," I replied.

"That, my dear, is the ocean."

"Yes."

Njord turned to me, and I saw he was tearing up again.  "I want to tell you something.  Every time you shed a tear, that is your connection to the ocean.  It is a reminder that you can feel, and that you can feel because you are a part of nature.  You are a part of the cycles of life."

I have never forgotten that.



The day Loki asked me for my hand in marriage, we were walking along the shore at my foster-father's house.  The wind was stirring his flame-colored hair, and the sunset was making his skin golden, like Ingvi's when I first saw him.

I had grown fond of this Loki character.  I was already fond of him the first day I met him, but my love for him deepened with each passing day.

Loki had an amazing sense of humor.  In all fairness, Ingvi and Freyja were funny, too.  Ingvi likes to make up silly songs, and do even sillier dances.  Freyja likes to play with my hair and share clothes with me, although my taste is more subdued than hers, and we giggle over cute boys.  But Loki -- he was different.

One of Loki's favorite things to do is tickle me.  Loki will grab me, and start prodding my armpits, my belly button, work his way down to behind my knees, and finally wrestle me to the ground and tickle the soles of my feet and my toes.  When he does this, I try to tell him to stop, but all that comes out are unintelligible sounds.  Loki finds this most amusing, and he repeats the sounds back to me to tease.

Today, Loki had just gotten through with tickling me, and now he pulled me close with his right arm and rubbed my head vigorously with his left fist.

"LOKI!"  I screeched.

"Yes?"

"What do you mean, yes?  Do I look like your personal playtoy?"

"Actually..."

And then Loki stopped a minute to look at me, and the intensity of his gaze I have never forgotten.

"You, Sigyn, are beautiful."

I couldn't speak.

"Your long brown braids... I would like to see your hair loose, I bet it's so pretty... your honest big brown eyes... your full lips... your round chin... your little button nose..."  Then he reached out to press the tip of my nose with his index finger.  "Yes, you have a cute little button nose."

I guess I was smiling really big, because my face hurt.

Loki cupped my chin into his hand and tilted my face up.  "Beautiful."

"You don't think... I'm a freak?"

Loki looked angry for a minute.  "Who calls you that?  Please don't tell me it's anybody in your family because I will chop them down and use them for firewood."

"No, Loki, it's not Njord and the others."  I sighed.  "It's my mother."

"Your...?"

I shook my head as vague memories, mostly intense emotions and the evil in my mother's eyes, came flooding through my head.  "I don't remember much.  I don't think I'm supposed to remember.  It was just bad."

"Sigyn," Loki whispered, "I love you."

And then it happened.  We kissed.  It was meant to be a soft little peck, then turned into fullness of lips, and swirling tongues, our bodies pressing together, and a strange tingling sensation between my legs.  I was still a teenager, but now very much a woman with woman's desires.

"Marry me, Sigyn," Loki said, "and I promise you, nobody will ever hurt you like that again.  I will give you joy like you've never dreamed of."

"Yes, Loki," I said.  "I've known it all along, this was meant to be."

"I know," Loki replied.

Then he looked down at his feet with a frown on his face, his brow furrowed.

"What's the matter, my love?"  I asked, truly concerned.

"Sigyn, you need to know something."  Loki looked up.  "I'm known among your father's people as being something of a trickster, but I would never lie to you, my love.  And that's why I need to tell you, if you take me as your husband, I will always cherish you, but there is another wife."

"Oh?"

"Her name is Angrboda.  She's a Jotun, like me.  Lives in the Iron Wood."

Now, I had heard rumors of the Iron Wood.  I don't think I've ever been there, but with my memory being what it is, I don't know.  Although I think I might know, if I had been there, because the way others described it, even those in my own foster-family, who were usually more Jotun-friendly than the rest... didn't sound like a nice place.

"Oh."

"She won't like this.  I can make her promise to stay away from you, so she won't hurt you."  Loki sighed.  "Please don't hate me, Sigyn.  I married her according to the customs of my people, when I was younger."

"Do you still love her?"

Loki sighed again and shrugged.  "I don't know what I feel for her.  I'll always feel something, but it doesn't compare to what I feel for you."

And then I nodded.  I couldn't hold his past against him; I had a past of my own.  "Okay."



Loki and I were married before the Aesir.  Because he's Odin's blood-brother, Odin was the "best man", and wanted to make sure Loki's wedding was done right.  I was stuffed into a strange formal dress and Frigga, Odin's wife, fussed over the fit, as well as my hair, and the bridal crown I was to wear.  She was kind enough, I had gotten to know Frigga well over the years and was fond of her, but it just seemed like a lot of trouble to bless people who loved each other and were committed.

I stopped complaining, though, when I heard the music.  Ingvi had arranged for the best musicians in Ljossalfheim to come out and play flute and fiddle and lyre and sing.  He had also arranged for lots and lots of food to be made, all kinds of meat, fish, and poultry, breads, cheeses, vegetable dishes, and of course, sweets.  There was a rather large cake made, with a little figure of me and Loki on top whittled out of wood.

"I made that myself," Ingvi said with a proud smile.

"I didn't know you could do that," I gasped.

He shrugged, and asked my new husband if he could dance with me.  Loki gave his permission, and so I danced with my foster-brother, twirling around and around to the lovely music.

"You need to cheer up, seriously," Ingvi said.

"I'm happy," I replied.  "This is the happiest day of my life."

"I can see it in your eyes," Ingvi said.  "Please, Sigyn."

I thought I was happy, but I knew then I wasn't.  Yes, I loved Loki more than anything, and wanted -- needed -- to be his wife.  There was no problem there.  The problem was I was among folk who didn't accept me, whether it was Aesir, Vanir, some of the Jotnar in attendance, or the Alfar.  The Alfar especially.  They had just been hired by my foster-brother to do a job, and they liked Ingvi well enough, but his freaky foster-sister, who nobody knows where she came from, that was another thing entirely.  And I knew that I would be an "outlander" for the rest of my days.

When the festivities had died down and Loki and I were alone, in the house he had built in Asgard for us, we sat out in the yard by the fire.  He wrapped a blanket around me and pulled me into his chest, so I could feel his heartbeat.  "What's wrong, my darling?"

"They don't like me," I said.

I looked up into Loki's handsome face, now frowning, and he nodded.  "They don't care for me much either," he said.  "If it weren't for Odin..."

Then Loki stroked my hair, now unbound from its braids and running in loose waves over my back.  "But you, my love... it doesn't matter what any of them think about you, about me.  We have each other.  This is what counts.  You are all that I need."

And then we made love for the first time, and my troubles melted away with the pleasure of his body.



I had two children, Narvi and Vali.  Boys, and they both looked like me more than their father.  I doted on them.  I was determined to give them the happy childhood I never had.  I indulged them in toys and stories and songs, and Loki provided the silliness.  We were a happy family.

Loki was often gone for long absences.  I knew perfectly well where he was -- with Angrboda -- but I never did get angry, because he always returned to me, and our sons, and never ceased in his affections towards me.



One day I was out in our yard with the boys, watching them play-fight with wooden swords.

"AAAARRR!  I'm going to slay you," Narvi yelled.

"No, I'm going to slay you," Vali scoffed.

Loki appeared.  I don't know how he got there.  He was quiet enough when walking, but we were bonded to the point where I could usually sense him when he approached.  Not this time.  It was like he just... materialized.

Loki was dripping with sweat, and I saw a look on his face I had never seen before.  He looked haggard, like an old man.  Panting.

"Sigyn... take the boys and go.  Run."

"What's going on?"  I asked, as I scooped the boys into my arms.

"JUST GO.  DON'T ASK QUESTIONS.  GO NOW!"

And then I heard them approaching, the sound of horse hooves and war cries.  Panic returned to me with an intensity I had not felt since childhood.  I ran, dragging the boys along, I ran and ran and ran, blindly, knowing that if I dare stop...

And then I saw him.  Robed in black, the bare eyehole that was usually patched, exposed.  I heard a scream -- mine -- as I watched the wand thrust out, heard the galdor, and saw Vali change into a wolf and devour Narvi, who was then stabbed by Odin's spear.

The Old Man -- Loki's blood-brother -- stooped down, and picked up the intestines spilling out of my boy's body, with his bare hands.

"What are you DOING!!!"  I shrieked.  I tried to hit him, and before my hands could make contact, he pushed me so that I fell to the ground.

"This is for Baldur," Odin yelled, and vanished.



Loki was bound with the intestines of our son.

In front of me.

"It was just a joke..." Loki shrieked.  "I didn't think he would go through with it!"

"SHUT UP!" Odin roared.  Then he looked at me, sternly.  "You don't have to go with him."

I looked back at him, just as sternly.  He had put his eyepatch back on, maybe to look more presentable?  "And do what?" I snarled.  "Live here as an outcast among you?  I think not."

They bore the bound body of my husband to The Abyss, as they called it, tossed him so that he fell down with a loud thud.  Then Skadi crawled down, using the rocks as steps.  She had something in her hand, I didn't see what.  When she came back up, Loki was screaming again, and Skadi had a satisfied, smug look on her face.

"What did you do?"  I yelled.  "Haven't you people done enough?"

And then she slapped me, hard, across the face.  "You people?  You people."  She spat.  "Don't you dare call me 'you people'.  But I guess I can't expect any better from a freakish half-breed like you."

And the Aesir left, not looking back.

I heard Loki's screams, again, and knew I had to be with him.  I made my way down the pit, trying to use the rocks as Skadi did, to guide my hands and feet, but I slipped halfway and fell down beside him.  After I fell, I noticed the entrance to the Abyss was closed, and we were in darkness save a small torch in the wall, ever-burning.

A snake was dripping venom into his eyes.

Loki screamed, and with this scream, the pit shook hard enough that some rocks were falling down.  I suspect those above the pit felt it as well.

The only memento of my childhood was a wooden bowl.  It was from the night I was preparing dinner at home and my mother attacked me.  I had slipped it into my dress before I left, knowing I would need to stop someplace and get water.  I never parted with it.

I took the bowl now from my apron, where I always kept it, and held the bowl above Loki's face to collect the venom.

"Sigyn..." Loki rasped.  "You don't have to stay here."

I smiled and caressed his cheek with my one free hand.  "Of course I do."

I remembered the kindness and affection he had shown me.  The kindness and affection of the Vanir was just them being Vanir.  They were just like that, frithful people.  Most of the Aesir scorned me, the few that were good to me, like Idunna and Frigga, I think were good out of a sense of propriety.  But Loki, he didn't have to be kind to anyone.  He was full-blooded Jotun.  Not the nicest race of folk.  And yet he actually appreciated me for who I was, reached out to me in my pain, and made me smile, and laugh.  He gave me the childhood I never had.

I saw the tears spilling down Loki's cheeks, and I knelt down to kiss them away.

"Njord told me something a long time ago," I whispered.

"What?"  Loki managed a weak smile.

And I told him about the ocean, and the cycles of nature, and how tears were a reminder that we are alive, and all interconnected in that life cycle.



Some years later, Odin decided to free Loki.

"You've suffered enough," Odin said, looking sad.

"Have I?"  Loki growled.  "Have I really, now?"

"There's no need for sarcasm," Odin sighed.  "And your wife is innocent.  She suffered needlessly.  Her only crime was being your wife and bearing your sons."

After cutting Loki free, he was too weak to stand, let alone climb up the Abyss, so the Aesir had to take him up.

Loki didn't want to return to Asgard, or Vanaheim, and he didn't want to bring me to Jotunheim out of fear of Angrboda.  We built a cottage in the Deep Woods, and when I went to the river for water, I recognized the village across the way.  It was where I lived with my mother.

We never had any other children.  Gerda, Ingvi's Jotun wife, secretly visited me from time to time, alone, both to bring messages back to my foster-family that I was okay (they didn't ask about Loki, and I suspect they didn't really care), and to sneak me herbs that would prevent pregnancy.  I was sure if we had more children, the Aesir would leave them alone, but Loki didn't want to risk it, and after what we had both been through, that was fine with me.

Loki and I live a quiet life now, outlaws in the middle of nowhere.  I know he's in pain, but he still manages to try to bring some happiness, and yes, some silliness, into my life.

(C) May 12, 2007 Sigrun Freyskona.