So I was multi-tasking this morning, contemplating Norse mythology and singing Irish ballads while taking a shower, when this came to me. I have always wondered what happened after Loki was freed from his punishment, but before the battle. I felt that the song 'Danny boy' was a good fit. Be warned, this is not a happy story. It is bittersweet, though.

Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling

Loki tended her in the sunny meadow that lay near the cave. She was weak and wraith-like, hair that had once been blonde and full, now grey and stringy, pale skin drawn taught over her protruding bones. She opened her eyes only for a brief moment now and then to gaze at him and give him a small, peaceful smile.

After he had been freed from his fetters, when the world had split open and all bonds were broken, it had taken him a day or so remember how to use his legs, how to walk. The serpent, sensing its danger, had fled. Loki regretted that he would likely not be able to kill it now. He had remembered Sigyn then, she still knelt in the same place, holding the bowl, unable to comprehend that his torment, her torment, was over. He moved to her slowly, painfully, he had taken the bowl from her hands and had carried her out to the meadow.

From glen to glen, and down the mountain side

The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying

He had washed her in the creek, made her drink and eat fruit from the nearby bushes before tending to himself. Now they lay side by side in the grass, resting. He could feel the vibrations in the earth, hear the shouts of pain and fear from afar. It had started.

Tis you, tis you, must go, and I abide

He turned to her, kissing her cheeks, her eyelids, her forehead, her mouth. His lovely Sigyn, faithful wife, she alone had never wavered in her devotion; she alone had never betrayed him. She gave him a faint smile, raising a poison-scarred hand to stroke his cheek.

He would not stay. He had promised her, he had sworn to himself, he would enact vengeance on those who had done this to them. She would understand. She always understood.

But come ye back, when summer's in the meadow

Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow

Once he had gained back sufficient strength, he rose and walked away, not looking back. He would make his way to Niflheim, to the hall of his daughter Hel, to rally and lead the dead into battle against Asgard.

At first he had laughed at the Aesir for their fear of Ragnarok, believing it to be foolish superstition. How could one god's death lead to the end of the world? He had mocked them, he had ridiculed them. They had shunned him. Shunned his wife, his children. So, in a fury, he had planned the death of Baldur. He had watched in grim satisfaction as all of Asgard had panicked. He would show them their foolishness, their stupidity. But they had found out, in a fit of rage he himself had told Frigg that it had been he who was responsible for the death of her beloved, perfect son. He had fled, but they had caught him, bound him to a rock in a cave with the guts of his own son. They had placed a serpent over him to drip poison on his face. He had pleaded, cursed, struggled, and screamed, to no avail. The gods and goddesses had gone about their work with grim silence, ignoring his pleas.

Tis I'll be here, in sunshine or in shadow

Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so

It was as they were leaving that she had come, holding a bowl, tears streaming down her face. The Aesir had parted for her, letting her pass, refusing to look at her. Loki fell silent as he looked on her in sorrow. Her child had just been ripped apart by her other child, what an unspeakable thing for a mother to endure. He wondered if they had made her watch. What would her fate be now? Where would she go? He watched curiously as she approached him slowly, kneeling down beside him and holding the bowl over his head, catching the poison that dripped down and burned away his flesh. He was shocked. Sigyn had always been a good wife, kind and patient, but he had often been cruel and dismissive of her. That she would come, and tend to him even in the depths of her own agony, was beyond his understanding. He had known then that he truly loved her, that he always would.

The world of the Aesir was built on honor, and with honor gone, the Aesir were no longer high and holy. Their world was falling apart. It had been them breaking faith with him that had begun Ragnarok, Odin's willful infliction of torture on one he himself had claimed as kin. They had been blood-brothers, friends. Loki laughed at the irony that the one who feared Ragnarok the most had been the one to bring it about.

And if you come, when all the flowers are dying

And I am dead, as dead I may well be

Standing at the rudder of the Nagelfar, the fearsome ship crewed by the dead, he steered straight through the raging sea towards Asgard. From afar, he was pleased to see his sons, Jormungandr and Fenris joining the charge, making for Asgard, side by side. On the field of Vigrid, he came face to face with Heimdall, his archenemy. Odin and Thor had already fallen to his sons, and so he fought fearlessly. He was driven by rage, by madness, even by love. Love for his children, who had been locked away or murdered, love for Sigyn, who had suffered though she had done nothing wrong. He pierced his enemy and watched him fall, only to realize that he too had been pierced. As he fell, he looked around at the bloodbath, smiling as he saw that Asgard had fallen, that the proud Aesir were broken. He let out a final breath, closing his eyes as his blood watered the shaking ground.

Come and find the place where I am lying

And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me

He flew through the shards of the sky, to the meadow where someone lay. He drew closer to her. She looked familiar, golden hair fanned out over the grass, wearing a white gown. He looked at her face and he thought he knew her. He remembered the never-ending nightmare that had taken place in the cave at the end of the meadow. He would be brought out of his delirium by something scratching against his face, only to realize that it was her lips against his, chapped and raw. He would tense in fear, knowing that the bowl was full, and she would soon leave to empty it. He would scream in white-hot agony, straining against his bonds, flesh burning and melting as he fell into oblivion. He would come back to himself when he had healed, and she was always there, shielding him with her bowl, sometimes silent, other times bringing him comfort with a song. He knelt down beside her, and called out "Lovely one, faithful one, do you know me?"

And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me

And all my dreams will warmer, sweeter be

She lay still, unmoving, but he heard her voice, singing sweetly to him in his mind. He was suddenly very tired, as if he had been journeying long and had finally reached his destination.

He lay down beside her, his eyes closing as well. "Yes. You are my beloved, my Sigyn."

And then you'll bend, and tell me that you love me

And I shall sleep in peace, until you come to me.