A/N: I'll be honest, I've been so ill with a virus that I spent most of the last four days asleep, and I wrote this during my rather disconnected awake moments, so it isn't my finest work. But it's a chapter, at least. 😂 Love you all. A. xxx
With few options available to us, considering my unwillingness to summon unfamiliar gods within Milbank's walls, I returned to the forestry commission plantation where I had previously summoned Tiw. The deserted clearing provided some shelter, the trees hiding us from the road, while also being quieter than the permanent place of worship which Yggdrasil had become. Plus, casting a temporary ward ensured the usurper would not see my latest attempt to gain allies, either. Even if he sat on Woden's throne, searching for me.
“Do you think she'll answer?” Syn asked, watching me as I finished weaving the squirming bubble of my protective charm around us.
“The odds are good. Most paths say yes. Few lead to her ignoring me. We can but ask and hope,” I answered with a slight shrug. Then I turned my eyes skyward and called, “Beaivi, goddess of the sun, of the Sami people, who brings hope and the return of light after the long darkness of winter, I, Fríge, wife of Woden, request an audience with you. I request this with humility and an offer of friendship. Please, come to me.”
I had long since grown accustomed to the multi-coloured lights of bifröst and the miniature tornado caused by those of my own pantheon's arrival in Middangeard. However, the blinding flash of sunlight and blistering heat that accompanied Beaivi's arrival came as an unexpected surprise, and I felt relieved that our vampire bodies were safely laid out in Conn's office, where they couldn't be scorched to cinders by the UV rays which the goddess momentarily emitted.
The woman who materialised before us tipped her head, curiosity in her sky-blue eyes as she appraised us. A curtain of pale gold hair fell around her shoulder, reflecting streamers of light, like sunlight bouncing over a rippling crystalline pool, and I had to admit that the sun goddess was beautiful. Dazzling. Enough so that I felt plain in comparison. But it was her energy that fascinated me.
I recognised some of her power because of its similarity to the strength I found in being of the Vanir, of being a fertility goddess, as well as a death goddess. Her power came from the earth, from summer shoots in spring meadows, to crops swaying in pastures, and to the birth and growth of livestock. Where I encouraged crops to become bountiful harvests, and cattle to provide wealth for my people, she encouraged seeds to germinate and shoots to grow, so that reindeer would be well fed, providing for the Sami people in much the same way. But where I also had a warrior persona, a persona of fire and steel, she was calming. She drew strength from the gift of sanity, of summer days of calm and plenty, away from the madness of the long darkness of Arctic winters. The placid, steady part of her seemed to be soothing balm, a steady river I could drift away on. After so much of my life had been lived on the brink of madness, her calm seemed the most foreign aspect of her, and also the most intriguing.
“Freyja,” Beaivi noted, perhaps recognising my fertility goddess status just as I acknowledged hers. “This is a surprise. We heard rumblings that you were preparing to bring a storm, I had not expected you to seek my counsel.”
“I seek more than your counsel.” I admitted, inclining my head, hoping to show respect. “I seek your help, to ensure all the realms of existence don't fall into darkness and despair. Tiw would lay claim to all of the heavens, and bring subjugation to any who would stand against him. We need to stop him, and I would ask for your assistance.”
Beaivi frowned, tipping her head as she scrutinised me. “Your war with the king of Ésageard is not my war.”
“But it will be,” I promised, earnest. “When Tiw seeks to control all realms, it will become your war, only by then it might be too late to stand together, or to rebel at all. If Tiw controls Middangeard, Alfhám, Heaven, and everything in between, how will you defend yourself from his relentless pursuit of power?
“If we stand together now, we have a chance to defeat him, to ensure the freedom of all our peoples. Even God and his angels appreciate the truth of that, and are willing to stand beside us. We can stand together, an alliance the likes of which has never been seen in this or any world, and we can ensure that Tiw's madness is halted and the darkness of his oppression is erased. Please, won't you grant us a ray of hope, for your own people, if not for mine?”
The goddess paced, light dancing around her as she moved, and a frown puckering her brow. “I didn't believe the whisperings that you had garnered God's support... That an archangel was among your emissaries...”
“Not my emissaries. Gabriel is a messenger of God, and God alone, but he is also a friend,” I admitted. “He accepts that I have done all I can to prevent Tiw's rise, but that I now need help. I am not strong enough on my own, not to defeat the army of giants and demons which Tiw will use to conquer every free realm. None of us are strong enough, not alone. But together, we have a chance to prevail. Together, we can win our freedom.”
“You know that as truth?” Beaivi asked. “You are well known as a prophetess, Fríge. Do you know the outcome of this venture?”
“I know every possible outcome. Some paths lead to failure, others to victory, but the odds of victory are greater if we have allies beside us than if we do not,” I promised, my tone urgent. “We can win, but with your help would be easier than without it.”
“You know I cannot speak for the rest of my people. Even if I were to consider what you say, I would need to seek council with the rest of the Sami gods. Some will not want to aid you, Freyja,” Beaivi warned, and I knew that much was true, but that was why I had called to her, to a goddess of light and clarity, rather than to gods and goddesses who may feel themselves in direct competition with me.
“I need you to illuminate the path for those who would see me as a rival or a threat. I'm asking you to attempt to bring clarity to those who would let fear or rivalry cloud their judgement. All I'm asking is that you try, knowing that my husband, my children, and me, myself, have suffered to shield you from Tiw, but that we're out of time,” I pleaded. “We need to end this, soon, or we'll all fall. That I do know to be the truth.”
Despite my gift of sight, I still felt relieved when Beaivi nodded, and promised, “Alright, Freyja, I will speak for you amongst my people. I cannot promise they will listen, but I'll try... Tell me, though, if we agree to this, will we be fighting alongside the new family you created for yourself? Alongside your cohort?”
Nodding, I told her, “Yes, my cohort and others will stand with us, and there will be vampires fighting against us too.”
Beaivi chuckled as she began to disintegrate, her atoms swirling apart as her musical laughter rang in my ears. “I will endeavour only to shine my light on your enemies, queen of Ésageard, and Sire of Newcastle. It would be unfortunate to scorch your friends.”
“That would be very much appreciated,” I noted into the empty space where the sun goddess had stood just moments before.
“She wouldn't really do that, would she?” Syn asked. “Burn our friends?”
Laughing, I shook my head. “No, she wouldn't. But having her ready and able to burn away Haltwhistle's rogues may prove useful. Come on, let’s go home. Leof might be back from Alnford Hall by now. And I want to speak to Georgie before I turn in for the day.”
The fate of the pregnant vampire whom Ragnar had turned just to taunt me often played on my mind. I was still surprised she hadn’t yet chosen sunlight herself. Yet more recently, I'd come to realise I might be able to encourage her child to grow, just as I did for the child that I carried in my vampire form, but after what happened at Yggdrasil, there were other options too.
“You're going to offer to unmake her, to turn her human once more,” Syn noted, guessing where my train of thought had headed. “You couldn't undo what Ragnar did to you, but you can undo what he did to her.”
Nodding again, I admitted, “One way or another, I can ensure she meets her child. How I do so depends on her. I'm willing to offer her a choice.”
Syn waited patiently as I erased my temporary ward, and then we headed back to the cohort Land Rover side by side. My tasks for the night were done, with a degree of success, and I couldn't ask for more than that. Only, as was so often the case, when I returned home, it was to discover my diplomatic mission for the evening wasn't quite over. As Syn pulled into a parking bay and turned towards me once more, her brows quirked at the scowl which had settle over my face. Even I could feel the tense set of my jaw and the pinching of my brows as I glared toward the steel door through to the main house.
“There's not anyone there waiting for you, Fríge. What’s provoked that look?” Syn asked gently, without judgement.
“She's waiting in the security office,” I murmured resentfully, already knowing who had chosen to pay us a visit, and not in the slightest bit happy about it.
“She?” Syn asked, perplexed.
“Neamhain Stewart, descendant of the war goddess Neamhain, and keeper of her powers. She's come to join our ranks,” I admitted, and part of me knew we needed all the help we could get, but that part warred for dominance with the part of me that disliked the girl for all she'd revealed in our previous encounter, and for the way she'd fawned over Abrođen as if she had the right. That latter part wanted to kick her out of Milbank House without so much as hearing her out, but that would be cutting my nose off to spite my face, and it wasn't like I had a claim on Fenn. Not anymore.
Slipping out of the vehicle, I slammed the door, with a little more force than I'd intended, as the window shattered into a thousand glass chips.
“Oops,” I muttered as I stomped past other cohort vehicles and the row of bikes which sat closest to the door.
I did try to real in my temper as I stalked toward the security office, but judging by the way Leof stood immediately, stepping between me and Neamhain and cupping my cheeks in a comforting gesture, I guessed I hadn't managed. In fact, I wasn't sure if he intended to comfort me or to protect her.
“I'm fine. I'm not going to do anything to her,” I insisted.
He chuckled at that, leaning down to press a tender kiss to my lips before admitting, “I know. And I don't blame you for your anger. She used no tact with you in the past, and requesting it of you now seems unfair, but you've been so diplomatic tonight, so let's not tarnish that now, alright, mínu lýtel cempestre?”
“Sometimes, husband, you ask too much of me,” I grumbled as I threw myself into a seat at glowered at our guest. Despite my best intentions, I couldn't help myself as I tilted my head and murmured, “He won't give you your brown eyed daughter, the next heir of Neamhain.”
“No,” the teenager admitted, “but I will give him his heirs. Twin sons, I'll bear mo faol, before we go our separate ways. I've seen it. I'm sure you've seen it too, mother of prophecy. Aren't Skoll and Hati written into your mythology? They will bear more common names too, of course. Just as their father does. But Fenrir's sons are part of the myth you wove. I'm just along for the ride.”
“If you hurt him, I'll kill you,” I promised.
“No. You won't,” Neamhain denied, shaking her head. “Because killing the mother of his sons would hurt him too, and them, and you won't do that. Your sons and his can grow up together, heirs of the better world you've both suffered so much to create. You can all find comfort in that, Freyja, while it will be many lonely years before I find any modicum of peace. My line has a duty to those who fight, and fall, but it is a lonely task, and my part has not yet come to its conclusion.”
That much was true. I could see it written in the pain that shone behind her eyes. She would spend decades following war and strife, going from battlefield to battlefield, aiding fallen heroes who died with her ancestor's name on their lips. She would see pain, and loss, and defeat, and that would take a toll on her soul, but she would do it because she had been handed a sacred duty, a birth right she hadn't asked for. Like Fenn. Just like I had done with Fenn, another goddess, in seeking to save her faith, had forced a sacred duty on an innocent, against their will. And just like Fenn, Neamhain Stewart would bear the scars of that decision.
I looked away, blinking back tears and trying to swallow down my guilt. My one regret would always be that I had ensured the suffering of some to pay for the freedom of many. If I could have taken all the pain myself, and been the only sacrifice needed, then I would have taken that path.
“Did your own birth right not force your fate on you, mínu Fríge?” Leof asked softly, taking my hand. “Did your gifts, gifts you did not ask for, not ensure your duty to the world? Did those gifts not cast you in the role of defender, of a shield, no matter what you would've liked for yourself? You have taken the brunt of the fear and pain, for a thousand years. You weren't put in a cell and forgotten about. You weren't forced to kill one man to save your family. You weren't given mere months in hell. You dealt yourself the worst hand, because you tried to become the only sacrifice needed, because you were born with a duty that came with your foresight. All people are born with their own fates, love. And some must suffer so that others can find peace. What a burden to bear, to have to decide who is strong enough to suffer, and to have to shield even them from the worst of what could come.”
“I don't want to bear it any longer,” I murmured, suddenly feeling so very tired, and so very old. “I don't want to cast the die, to decide who should suffer and who should be saved. I will take this war to its conclusion, but after that, I'm done. Syn is right, I am allowed to say ‘no more'.” Glancing at Neamhain, I noted, “One day, she will pass on her mantle too, as we all must do eventually. Maybe my time has come.”
Leof squeezed my hand, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “And I will stand beside you in that. We were never meant to retake Ésageard for ourselves, love. We need to free it for our heirs, but after that, we are allowed to set our feet on a different path. I don't need a crown. All I need, I have already.”
Refocussing of Neamhain, on the mortal with the duties of a goddess, I murmured, “Welcome to the resistance,” because there was nothing else for it but to accept her help, and ask, “Will you be staying with us until it's done?”
“Until it's done,” she agreed.
Turning to Syn, I requested, “Can you see if we have a spare room for her. If not a spare room, then at least a spare bed in the ballroom with the others seeking shelter here?”
“She can have my room,” Syn offered and shrugged, “It's not like I stayed there often, even before I realised that I was already married to the love of my life.”
“Is that you telling me you plan on moving in permanently?” Ve asked, from where he'd silently sat at his desk, watching proceedings.
Syn smiled, mischief glinting in her eyes. “Well, it's not like you're going to turn me away, husband.”
Ve grinned. “No. But I might have to remind you who is boss, wife.”
Syn chuckled, winking at her husband, “And you are the only person I will allow to put me in my place.”
“Please don't,” I begged. “Or, at least, don't share your antics with the rest of us.”
Both my brother-in-law and his wife were still laughing at my expense as Syn led our guest out of the security office, to get her settled. I watched them go with a heaviness in my heart that hadn't been eased by Leof's appraisal of my own birth right. I still felt guilty.
“How was he?” I asked, turning towards my own husband.
“Don't you already know?” he asked, arching the brow over his one eye.
“I do, but I want you to tell me anyway. In truth, I hate knowing so much. I'd rather hear your opinion,” I explained.
Leof tugged me onto his lap, into my usual position, holding me close as he admitted, “He's doing alright, Little Warrior. He looked tired, which isn't so surprising, all things considered, but he's reacclimatising to being with his pack. They're looking out for him, and I fully believe he will recover from what was done to him. I think, perhaps, if he had never had the love of a goddess, he would've had a harder time learning to see value in himself again. But you said he was worthy, and that continues to help him more than you necessarily realise.”
Leof pressed a kiss to my hair, murmuring, “You underestimate how much your love can heal the broken. The worth you place on us can make us into better people, even when we don't know how to be ourselves. He will be alright, because you need him to be, and he would never choose to disappoint you.”
“He couldn't disappoint me. Just like you can't,” I promised. “You are two of the strongest people I know.”
Smiling, Leof tipped my chin up so I had to meet his eye. “And that is what we see in you, my love. No matter what Neamhain blames her divine ancestors for, Fenn doesn’t blame you for what happened to him. He understands, just as I understand. And if he could go back to the start of time, and stand with us in Ésageard, back before any of us fell, he would say exactly what I said; I agree to it, Little Warrior, to every plan in your head. Only he would call you rebel instead.”
I nodded, trying to believe him, but doubting that Abrođen would agree to everything I had forced on him. Looking away again, I murmured, “Did you unblock his magic?”
Leof hesitated at that, then sighed and shook his head. “He asked me not to. He used it against his people, Little Warrior, and I have no doubt that he wakes in the night just as terrified and willing to lash out as I once did. He doesn't trust himself to wield that gift, just as I didn't trust myself when you suggest rereleasing my magic. We've built trust and understanding between us, but I'm not you, love. I think you might need to ask this of him, and you might need to be the one who does it, because your trust is the foundation upon which his resilience is built, just like mine. He's scared. He's been scared all his life, right until you persuaded him that he didn't need to be. You need to tell him you believe he can handle this, and that his pack can handle this, because right now, he needs to hear that.”
Nodding, I accepted that. If I could help Fenn in anyway, then I would. And hopefully he would prove more willing to listen than Leof had been. “I'll go and see him tomorrow night, while Vili and Ve are out summoning more gods. That means you'll have to stay here and man the fort, though.”
“I can do that,” Leof promised, but I felt a flicker of unease as his arms tightened possessively around me. He wasn't jealous of Fenn, not anymore. He trusted us both, and even understood and accepted the bond we'd forged, but I knew what played on his mind.
“When I unbound your magic, we...” I winced as I spoke, thinking about the consequences of that act, and blushed as I admitted, “It sounds so crass to say ‘we got caught up in the moment and fucked by mistake'... But I promise you, that won't happen with Fenn. It won't happen, because despite our chemistry, despite the love that will always linger, he is not you. We both respect you. I love you above all others. Whatever desire comes from my magic unbinding his, it won't lead anywhere. It can't. I won't let it. I don't want it to lead anywhere.”
“I know,” he answered. “My head knows, and even if it didn't... How could I be angry with you or him, considering he didn't march up here and kill me all over again for what I did to you? You didn't want what happened between us either...”
“I wanted you,” I interjected, with the honest truth.
“But not like that,” Leof added, ashamed at the memory. “You knew I wasn't ready. You knew a moment wasn't enough, and that it was all I could give right then, because I hated myself so deeply, and I couldn't stand how ashamed of my weakness I felt when stood next to you, my strong, brave Little Warrior.
“So, all I'm saying, is magic is powerful. Your souls reaching for one another in a way they've never done before, that will be powerful. And as much as I empathise, as much as I like the wolf as a friend and ally, I'm still just a man in love with my wife. And on that front, my heart worries even while my head knows better.”
Placing a gentle kiss on his lips, I promised, “You have nothing to fear. You have my loyalty. Fenn and I will find other ways to express our bond without betraying you. We both respect you so much, Leof, and Fenn didn't bring me back to you, just to step on your toes now. I'll take my cloak. We'll run, or hunt, but we won't do what you fear. I promise.”
Leof nodded, then kissed me again. “I love you, mínu Fríge.”
“I love you too, Leof,” I replied, that truth absolute. But because I didn't want him dwelling on the subject of my relationship with Fenn, I changed topics, asking, “And the other gods, I take it meeting with them went much as I predicted?”
“It did,” he agreed. “As you said, Zeus wants no part in it, but his ego was suitably massaged by being asked at all. Ra... I'll be honest, Ra grates on my nerves. He’s arrogant. Really arrogant. If I'm ever that arrogant, slap me.”
My lips quirked into an almost smile, and Leof looked horrified by his own request, back-tracking quickly. “I take that back. No violence. Just firmly reprimand me.”
I arched a brow. “Because you take direction so well...”
“Sometimes, I think I really ought to ask Ve's advice on how to keep you in line, love,” he teased, much to my horror.
“Please can we get back to the topic if gods and allies, as this is going somewhere that I don't want to go.”
“Prude,” Ve interjected from behind his laptop. “You never know, you might enjoy it.”
“Lalalalalalala" I sung, covering my ears with my hands and doing my best not to hear, even as the two brothers broke down into fits of laughter. I glared at them both, while at the same time feeling relieved that my embarrassment had at least derailed Leof's anxiety over the consequences of me being the one to give Fenn back his magic. Silver linings, and all that.
When Leof finally got his mirth under control, he admitted, “Despite being an arrogant git, Ra is willing to stand with us, and he is willing to speak to the rest of his people.
“Ukko seemed willing as well, and he's going to speak with the rest of his tribe. The only one he doubts will agree to fight alongside us is Tursas, the war god. And I can't say I'm surprised; in many ways, Tursas is Tiw's counterpart in a parallel faith. Which brings me to another concern...”
“You're worried that Tursas will break Ukko's trust, to take whatever he discovers by way of our request directly to Tiw. Maybe in an attempt to barter for control of his own pantheon, if he joins Tiw's ranks,” I suggested. “But I wouldn't be too concerned.”
“You think it unlikely?” Leof asked.
“The opposite. I think it’s very likely,” I admitted. “But the time has come for us to goad Tiw into battle. Tursas doesn't know which gods we have on our side, or the extent of the forces we will command; he can't give away too much. If he runs to Tiw to inform him that we are seeking the help of other deities, it might make Tiw believe we are getting desperate. It might also jump start him into action, and that will allow us to finally bring this conflict to an end. Let Tursas sound the commencement of the final battle. His own king will see to his end, just as you will see to Tiw's.
Moving on, I asked, “What about Perun? And Enlil and Marduk?”
“You were right about Perun; he is willing to join us as long as we are willing to give him a platform, to prove to his own followers that he exists,” Leof confirmed, then chuckled at whatever had gone down between Enlil and Marduk. “As for Enlil and his nephew, they almost came to blows while arguing over who truly brought about Tiamat's defeat, and their differences of opinion on humanity’s importance and right to exist. Thousands of years to get over their squabbling, and Enlil still treats Marduk like a usurper, and Marduk still sees Enlil as unworthy of the position he held amongst Mesopotamian gods. You would've thought the decline of their pantheon should've clarified their priorities, but it hasn't.
“At one point, Fenn threatened to bang their heads together if they didn't shut up and listen, hard enough that they'd become one god, then they would no longer need to squabble over who owned their Tablet of Destinies.”
“Oh dear,” I frowned. “His diplomacy has suffered. I didn't mean for him to threaten them.”
Leof laughed, heaving a slight shrug. “It got their attention at least. Of course, they told him he wouldn't dare. At which point he lost all patience with their shenanigans and stated, “I'm the fucking god-slayer, you half-wits, and right now making you two useless-remnants-of-a-forgotten-age see sense is my only priority. So, either shut the fuck up and listen to what Woden has to say, or I will send you both to whichever underworld god is willing take two more imbeciles.”
I groaned, rubbing my temples. “He wasn't ready for this.”
Kissing my cheek, Leof promised, “Actually, it did the trick, because it achieved exactly what you wanted us to accomplish together; it highlighted who he is, and who I am, and where we've both been sent and brought back from. It emphasised that, if Odin and Fenrir can get along, then there's really no reason for Enlil and Marduk to still bear a grudge. It also gave them a healthy dose of wariness, because we are powerful, with powerful allies, and that warned them not to test our patience any further, not when we had important matters to attend to. They shut up and listened, and they realised that their whole sorry squabble would be meaningless if Tiw usurped them both anyway. They agree to fight with us, and to get the rest of their pantheon on side.
“I mean, their pantheon doesn't have much power these days, but they have enough to be able to show up and help, just as you wanted. While the wolf's lack of restraint at present might not be exactly what you wanted, we served our purpose. And he settled down once the parade of deities came to an end. I can't blame him for being unsettled around self-professed kings of the gods. I wasn't exactly thrilled by them myself.”
Leof laughed at his own admission, then asked, “And what about you? How did it go at Yggdrasil and with Beaivi?”
“I have what I needed to remake Gungnir,” I admitted, chuckling at how my husband's eyes lit up at the mention of his spear. “I also discovered a new way to help Georgie while I was at the tree. And Beaivi is willing to take my request to her people, so now we just need to wait for her response, but chances are good. I think she'll win them...”
My voice trailed off as the rainbow lights of the bifröst lit up the room, and the tornado that marked my brother's arrival tossed Ve's paperwork across the room, much to my brother-in-law's annoyance. Ah. Family.
Of course, what really caught my attention was the body of a woman carelessly tossed over Fréa's shoulder. He deposited her on the table, then mumbled, “I'll be right back,” and vanished again.
“I swear, it's like Grand Central Station in here,” I observed.
“Before you joined the cohort, this room was a safe space, orderly. You brought chaos,” Ve grumbled, momentarily overcome by Gunner's gripes. Apparently, you could take the god out of the vampire, but you couldn't take the vampire out of the god.
A second later, my brother returned with a second body, lying her next to the first and muttering, “One more,” before disappearing again.
On his final arrival, he lay the last wyrdæ out on the table, then sank onto a seat so heavily it gave away that travelling back and forth in such quick succession used up too much energy, and he would need a few moments to recover before he could return to Alfhám once more.
“They were right where you said they would be,” he noted, then closed his eyes, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “Someone wake me up in an hour’s time.”
“This is my office, not a hotel,” Ve grumbled, indignant, then he eyed the bodies of Urđr, Verđandi, and Skuld, complaining, “And it certainly isn't a morgue.”
“If my office has to be full of bodies, it's only fair yours is too,” Leof noted, blue eye twinkling with mischief.
“Hush, you. Don't egg him on,” I reprimanded as I stood up. “Come on, I'll help you get them upstairs, until we can get all the wyrdæ back into them. Then I'll retrieve your spear shaft from the car.” Glancing sheepishly at Ve, I admitted, “And, err, the Land Rover's side window had an accident and will need replace. Sorry.”
Ve gave me a flat look, and I decided it might be in my best interest to magically fix the window, rather than requesting he see to the repairs.
“Never mind. I'll fix it when I get the spear shaft,” I promised, and hoped that would placate him.
