Chapter 19 Bjorn
It was the determination in Freya’s eyes more than the words she spoke that sent a jolt of trepidation through my guts. “Excellent,” I grumbled. “Our plan is for you to do the one thing that you cannot do. As always, Born-in-Fire, your plans fill me with the utmost confidence of our certain success.”
Instead of rising to my bait, Freya only fixed me with an emotionless stare. “Call me to arms.”
“What?” I demanded, even as I heard my mother suck in a breath of air.
“The tendency to shout must run in the family,” Freya said, “because both of you argued at top volume and I heard every word. If allegiance means that I must answer a call to arms, you can do so just as easily as Snorri. So call me to arms and name him your enemy.”
Everything felt suddenly distant, as though I watched myself from afar.
“And once you do that, I will call upon Hel to take his soul to Helheim.” Her chin trembled slightly, betraying that she wasn’t as calm as she was pretending.
“You said you refused to use Hel’s gift again,” I said. “You said that you did not believe it a power a mortal should wield.”
“I did say that.” Freya inclined her head in acknowledgment. “And I feel the same way, which is why I believe this is the right path.”
There was no denying the logic but every part of me recoiled at the idea of using the oath my piece-of-weasel-shit of a sire had forced upon her. At compelling her to do something, even at her request. “No. If this is the path you wish to walk, then walk it. But it will not be on my orders.”
Freya made a noise of disgust. “You will have my back until the gates of Valhalla, will you? Except only on your terms.”
“Having your back doesn’t mean agreeing to every wild scheme you come up with.”
She scowled at me. “I can’t look at you anymore.” Nodding at my mother, Freya strode back to the cabin, wolves at her heels.
“I understand your concerns, my son. But by standing on morality, you put her at greater risk.”
My mother had risen to her feet, her cloak wrapped tightly around her despite the heat of the sun now fully risen in the sky.
“If you harness her oath first, there is a good chance that Snorri will hold no power over her,” my mother said. “Or at least, much less power. If you allow her to go on her own, all it will take is one word of command naming Nordeland her enemy and Freya will turn on us. The horror I just witnessed will become reality.”
“Or perhaps this is how it becomes reality,” I snapped. “By compelling her to march straight toward him. Who is to say if she remembered the words correctly or if there is some nuance of magic Ylva used that will grant Snorri more control? It’s better for Freya to run. To get as far away from Nordeland as she can.”
“Do you truly believe that?” my mother asked. “Or do you see that path as holding a higher hope for you reclaiming Freya’s heart?”
My jaw clenched, anger burning in my chest. “Do you truly believe I’m that selfish?”
“I know you love her and will do anything to get her back.” She looked away. “It is not lost on me how you prioritized your own desires over her well-being while you were in Skaland. Freya is young and has been conditioned all her life to give the men around her what they want, and you took advantage of that.”
Her words were a punch to the stomach, driving the air from my lungs. “I…”
“Banish that word from your lips.” Her eyes shot to mine, green irises bright with anger. “And replace it with Freya’s name. If you truly love her, then you will do what is right for her, even if it costs you what you want.”
“I am trying to do what is right for her!” Yet doubt crept into my mind, despite my protests. “There is a simple solution, Mother. I’ll kill Snorri. I should’ve fucking killed him half a lifetime ago, but you wouldn’t let me. You were so set on your own vengeance and needing to deny him Valhalla that you never stopped to question whether it was your actions that secured Freya’s dark fate. So do not speak to me of selfishness.”
Her expression was unmoved. “Selfishness must be in the blood.” Her face tilted. “Doubt my judgment all you wish, Bjorn. But remember the Allfather did not reveal to me Bjorn Firehand cutting his thread free of the false king’s control to weave a new destiny. He showed me Freya.”
Then she twisted on her heel and strode toward the cabin.
Turning my face to the sky, I fought for calm. Fought to reclaim logic and reason. All my life, I’d been driven by prophecy and destiny and fate, accepting the Allfather’s guidance given through my mother’s lips without question.
But I questioned it now.
Questioned why the woman I loved more than life needed to embrace the darkest parts of her soul to achieve a brighter future. Why I had to be the one to order her to do it. Why the weave of fate seemed like a cruel trick played upon the living, no one ever coming out victorious because this life always ended in death.
But I’d sworn to be at her back until the gates of Valhalla, and not even doubt in the Allfather himself was enough for me to break that vow.