Love In Asgard

“Listen to the story I have on the edge of my lips,” the storyteller said with a smile as he waltzed from one end of the stage to the other. “I could promise you romance, misadventure, or a tale that we all could scarcely believe. My story begins with the god Hermes performing his duties for the Rich One himself…”

The god of thieves found himself at the door of a small house located at the outer edge of Athens, waiting for the poor soul inside to take his last breath. With a groan, he peered inside the window, letting his eyes fix on the old man’s family as they lingered near their master’s bed. Too many times, his immense speed had gotten him to the site of a death before the mortal actually died. Too many was an exaggeration out of the countless number of souls he had guided from their deathbed to the shores of the River Styx. Hermes snorted, lies were associated with him as well and weren’t exaggerations just another way that souls lied? It had to be, else why did they fall off his tongue so easily? How many times had those lies gotten him out of trouble with Hera? Wasn’t she fond of his lies?

A gasp followed by a chorus of screams brought Hermes out of his thoughts and back into the moment. He had come to collect a soul, not ponder the attributes mortals associated with him. His eyes focused back on the mortals inside. How soon would he be returning to this very house to collect their grandchildren? Too soon, he knew. 

Get to work, he told himself. Take this soul down and retrace his steps to that nymph he saw hiding in the city’s fountain. He prayed to Gaia that pretty little thing would not accuse him of being Apollo and running away. By Zeus, why did so many nymphs mistake him for Apollo? Did they want him for a lover? Or more likely, he thought as he began his journey inside the house, it was just an excuse not to become his lover.

Despite his efforts to keep himself unseen by the mortals of Hellas, there were a few who could see through the mist he had erected around himself to stay hidden. To combat that chance, the young god did the most mundane of things: enter the house through the front door, so if one of the mortals did see him, it would not seem so unusual. He could be a kinsman paying his final respects to the old man before he descended into the Underworld.

Stepping inside, Hermes first heard the crackling of a fire, and on instinct, he looked towards the hearth, his eyes searching for Hestia –only to find his aunt not tending the flames. He cursed himself for it. He did it every time he entered a home to gather up the soul for its final journey. A curse fell off his lips. Only mortals were so set in their ways. Pushing thoughts of his father’s sister aside, Hermes strode through the plain house, past the grieving mortals to the pathetic excuse of a deathbed at the back of the house.

A wrinkled old woman sprawled over her loved one’s dead body. He almost wanted to call her a poor woman, but she didn’t have long in this world as it was. Let her take comfort in thinking that he would wait for her before paying the fare to cross the River Styx on Charon’s boat. Hermes snorted, he had heard those words spoken more times than he could count when he came to collect the dead. But the mortals around him only wailed at their loss, uncomforted by the people around them. Pathetic.

Hermes walked around to the opposite side of the bed. He took his time as if giving the soul a few moments longer with his family was some kind of gift. The soul was still dead, and soon he would have his family around him, strolling around the fields of Asphodel just like everyone else. Nothing this soul had ever done would the judges consider special enough for him to go to the Elysium Fields. Hermes could hardly remember the last time he had had the privilege of escorting a hero to the Underworld. So many of them, it seemed, were elevated to minor god status these days. Was Zeus preparing for a war or something?

The god of thieves snorted as he reached the opposite side of the bed and reached out to touch the man’s left shoulder. A chuckle filled the room as Hermes saw movement in the dead man’s face. The shifting of the dead man’s soul from his body always came across like this. A pale-skinned form with red hair sat up in the dead man’s place. A smile crossed his unexpected visitor’s face as fingers tightened around the wrist on the soul’s shoulder.

An instant later, the world went black. Dreams of the nymph in the fountain teased his thoughts for what seemed like hours –until a chill in the air brought him awake. He kept his eyes closed as he felt the weight of fabric on his arms all the way down to his legs. The next sensation that registered in his thoughts was the heavyweight of furs pressing against him. Yet despite the clothing and the furs, the air was still terribly cold.  He knew this time of year parts of the world experienced something called winter when it snowed. 

Hermes opened one eye at a time. By Zeus, where was he? How could he have gotten here? He whispered a curse and a heartbeat later, the same chuckle that he had heard in the house at Athens echoed from the other side of the room.

“I know you are awake, son of Zeus,” the voice said. “You might as well sit up. You might think it is cold here, but this room is actually quite warm compared to the outside.”

He despised doing anything that anyone other than Zeus told him to do, but if he wanted to learn where he was and the reasons behind the voice bringing him here, he might as well sit up. Hopefully, his host had brought him something to eat. As his stomach growled, Hermes wondered which was more important: getting something to eat or getting an explanation from his host. If he had any luck, he would get both at the same time.

The god of thieves pushed himself into a sitting position; the furs slid off his chest as took in his surroundings. The walls were made entirely of wood and furs hung from the walls and were draped over every piece of furniture in sight. Lounging on a pile of furs across the room from him, Hermes recognized his host from the home in Athens.

“Who are you?” Hermes croaked.

His host grinned. “I thought I didn’t need an introduction. Or did you think Odin already had me tied up by my son’s entrails?”

“Loki,” the Greek god whispered.

“At your service,” the god of mischief nodded. “Welcome to Asgard.”

“Why have you brought me here? Don’t you care that I have my own duties to attend to?”

“I’ll see you safely back to Olympus, I promise. But I would like you to do something for me first.”

First, Odin’s clown had abducted him from the warmth of Hellas! And now, he had to negotiate with a frost giant to get himself released? Hermes frowned. He could threaten all he wanted, he could neither beg nor plead with Loki to get returned to Olympus.

“What can I do for you?” his voice finally croaked.

Loki chuckled. “I want you to pretend to be me for a few days.”

"Why?"

“It seems I promised Thor I would help him get Mjolnir back, but it also seems that I promised my beloved Sigyn that I would stay in Asgard the next time Thor had the urge to go out on an adventure. I’m in a bind and only you can help me.”

Hermes glared at the god of mischief. The stories of all the things this frost giant had done had reached Zeus’ court. Loki had a flair for getting himself into situations that he would have been better off not getting himself into in the first place. Never before had Loki turned to him for help.

“Why are you asking me for help now?” Hermes demanded. “Does Zeus’ anger not bother you?”

“No, his anger doesn’t bother me at all. Odin insists that only I can help Thor get his blasted hammer back, so I have no choice but to go with him. But I’ve broken Sigyn’s heart far too many times. I can’t bear to it again. It’s only for a few days, I assure you. Odin promises to whisper in your father’s ear if it takes longer than that.”

“Four days is all I can spare,” he insisted.

The Norse god of mischief smiled and gave him a nod. “Now let me teach you how to be me.”

Hermes snorted. How hard could it possibly be to pretend to be Loki? Though he often got himself into trouble with Odin and his court, Loki was quite well-behaved. Besides, perhaps Tyr, the Norse god of war, could teach him a few tricks for the next time he crossed swords with Ares or Athena. He had little chance to think of all the tactics he could learn for the god of mischief kept him so busy they barely had time to even eat. He was so exhausted by the time dusk settled on Asgard that Hermes collapsed onto his bed without whispering goodnight to his host.

Near dawn the next morning, Loki shook him awake and guided him through the corridors of Odin’s palace to the apartments the god shared with the Lady Sigyn. His host guided him as far as the edge of the bed before retreating into the darkness. Hermes sighed as he assumed Loki’s form and slipped into bed next to the Asgardian’s wife.

The god of thieves fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. He was so exhausted from the Asgardian’s teachings that Hermes didn’t even dream. His next memory came in the form of a female voice whispering into his ear.

“Good morning, dearest husband,” Sigyn purred. “I hope you slept well.”

Hermes opened his eyes to look up at the most beautiful face he had ever seen. None of Loki’s descriptions had truly prepared him for the golden-brown hair that cradled the most oval face he had ever set eyes on. Her lips were a pale pink but the color stood out against her equally pale skin. And her brown eyes peered right through him. For a moment he feared she had guessed that someone had taken her husband’s form. He smiled at her, praying that his grin would be enough to convince her that her husband had slept in bed next to her.

“Morning to you, my beloved,” he whispered back. “And yes, I did sleep well.”

Sigyn chuckled through the smile on her lips. Hermes felt his own smile grow at the sight. She was more beautiful than any nymph he had set eyes on in Hellas. A part of him wished that he had told Hermes he could spare more time. Being in her company would certainly be worth Zeus’ wrath. He wouldn’t need Odin to interfere with his father on his behalf.

“Come to the table,” she encouraged. “The Lady Frigg is expecting me this morning, and you promised Tyr you would spar with him.”

“I would rather steal the morning with you,” he told her.

Another laugh fell off her lips. “You’re just saying that because you promised to remain in Asgard this time while Thor slipped away. We will have all afternoon to ourselves.”

A soft groan escaped his lips, but he did as the beautiful Sigyn commanded. He whispered a prayer that he would indeed have the entire afternoon to enjoy her company. Several platters of food had been spread across the table for them to enjoy. Hermes tried to linger much longer than was proper. Frigg, he knew, was Hera’s equivalent in Asgard, and one did not keep a Queen waiting. He escorted her as far as the throne room, kissing her hand before letting her attend her mistress. With a sinking heart, he watched her cross the hall to receive her Queen’s welcome. Only then did he pivot around to let a page escort him to the practice hall where he found the Norse god of war waiting.

His time with Tyr dragged on and on. His only comfort was that Tyr hadn’t knocked him down as often as Ares or Athena had when he practiced with them. The longer he sparred with his opponent the more he doubted he would learn a thing he could take back to Olympus with him, not that he found himself caring much about that. Being here was keeping him from Sigyn. He found he would rather explore the depths of her compassion rather the hold the sword and shield in his hands.

Just past the noon hour, Tyr called an end to their session, thank Gaia. Another page escorted him to the baths and from there back to the rooms Loki shared with his wife. He found the lovely Sigyn wrapped in a thick robe and sitting at the table covered with another selection of food. His session with Tyr left his stomach in knots, so eating even a bite made his insides turn. But to keep up appearances, he kissed her on the cheek before sliding onto the chair across from her.

Neither of them ate more than a few bites. Hermes suspected Sigyn wanted to enjoy these few stolen moments with her husband without an adventure with Thor standing in the way. When it became clear that she would not eat another bite, Hermes came to his feet, took the two steps to her side, and extended a hand out for her to take with a smile on his lips.

“I can’t remember the last time you looked so lovely, my lady,” he said softly.

Sigyn smiled at him as she slid her fingers over the palm of his hand. Hermes returned her grin. The Norse goddess of compassion came to her feet and guided him from the table back to the bed. She let go of his hand to slip her robe from her body. The grin on his face widened at the sight of her beautiful body. He watched her crawl onto the bed and an instant later, Hermes climbed into bed with her, joining himself to her. None of the lovers he had taken back in Hellas were as enjoyable as Sigyn. He would have to learn the next time Loki left on some misadventure with Thor and sneak up to Asgard to spend a few days with her.

Only exhaustion forced Hermes to collapse next to his lover. Sigyn curled up against them and quickly fell asleep with her head on his shoulder. He stayed awake until midnight when fatigue overtook him. Dreams played in his mind that night as he slept, a replay of his lovemaking with the beautiful goddess.

The next morning found again in Tyr’s company practicing with swords yet again. Hermes found his attention more focused this time, but he also knew what was ahead of him that afternoon. After he emerged from the baths, his page escorted him not to Loki’s apartments but to an expansive garden behind Odin’s palace. He found Sigyn there with the midday meal spread over a wooden table.

“I thought we could explore Frigg’s garden this afternoon,” she suggested.

Hermes leaned down to kiss her. “That’s not the kind of exercise I had in mind,” he admitted. “But I will take as much time in your company as I can.”

Sigyn chuckled. “Thief,” she teased.

That afternoon, and the two days that followed, were a blur Hermes could not force to slow down, despite all the gifts he had been blessed with as a god. Too soon, they were welcoming Thor back from his mission to retrieve Mjolnir. The Asgardians threw a great feast to celebrate the latest victory of the god of thunder. Hermes lingered for as long as he could, before he spotted Loki in a corner, a smile on his lips. With an aching heart, he slipped away from the beautiful Sigyn’s side and joined the god of mischief in his hiding spot.

“My thanks, Hermes of Olympus,” Loki whispered.

“The next time you want to be in two places at once,” Hermes promised, “please call on me.”

Loki nodded and returned Hermes to the same house in Athens he had been lingering outside the day the Asgardian had abducted him. With a sigh, he looked inside the window to see the same death scene replaying itself in front of him. He had duties to Zeus to perform. He only prayed to Gaia that his absence had not been noticed by any of his kin.

“And that, my dear audience, is how the Greek god of thieves met the Norse god of mischief for the first time,” the storyteller concluded. “They had other meetings throughout the centuries, but those are tales for another day…”