Chapter 11
Gullveig
I had no idea Freya was planning to marry Odin in their earth child shapes until I showed up for the wedding, and I’m almost never surprised, as her bonded. For the rest of the world, it causes quite a stir.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask. “I doubt the aesir will love it.”
My mother’s helping me pin Freya’s hair up. My bonded’s wearing my mother’s old wedding gown. It’s a dark wine color, and it really makes her ice-blue eyes stand out.
“You’re sure this is okay?” Freya asks again, smoothing down the velvet bodice.
“You can’t answer my question with another question,” I say. “Especially one you already know the answer to.” Mother has told her it’s fine at least five times already.
Freya sighs. “Odin and I decided that the best way to reassure the earth children that his marrying a vanir wasn’t a disaster was to show them that Jore herself has blessed our union.
So we’ll start out in this form.” She sighs.
“Then we’ll change clothing so I don’t ruin this gorgeous gown, and we’ll change into our vanir shape for the mating flight. ”
“Do you think it’ll work?” I whisper. “Since you’re. . .you know.”
She laughs. “I certainly hope so.”
“There have been cross-affinity matches before,” Mother says.
“Storm and moon,” I say. “Strike and water. But not flame and ice.” It’s not that I’m unsupportive, but no one’s really sure what will happen when two sworn enemies mate. No matter how much Freya pretends it will all be fine, the world doesn’t always turn out like that.
I tie the heart on a string around her neck. “Well, maybe this will help bless your union.”
Freya shakes her head. “No, I can’t. It’s yours. You pulled it from the gold. You won it from Jore, not me.”
I wrap her hand around it, closing her fingers tightly on the massive and beautiful stone. “We did it together, just like you and Odin are working together now to try and heal the rift between the vanir and the aesir. I support you, and so does Jore. We may as well remind everyone of that.”
She hugs me then, and the bond shivers. “I’m so glad you were sent to kill me.” Her smile’s brilliant. Everything about her shines. Not just today, but every day.
“I’m happy, too,” I say. “Jore really blessed me.”
“Blessed us.” Freya shoves her arm through the crook of mine and drags me out into the massive cavern alongside her.
“You’re just doing this because you want a ride.”
Freya laughs. “Did it work?” She points up at the raised platform. “It’s really far if we have to walk there on these tiny legs.”
I chuckle and toss my head. “If you think you can hold on in that stupid dress, go ahead and try.”
It’s tiring to carry her, but less so than it was.
The more I use my wings, the easier it becomes to use them, and I am grateful for the gift they’ve been.
They saved us from Bjorn. They brought us here.
And they’ve helped everyone see that while we’re not like the usual aesir bonded pair, there’s strength sometimes in doing something unlike the usual.
I suppose that’s Freya and Odin’s whole plan here today.
Odin, unlike Freya’s father Bjorn, didn’t attack when he saw us. He listened. And the more he listened and understood for himself, the more he changed. I would never have imagined he might grow to love the daughter of his enemy, but he has. I see it when he looks at her. His entire visage changes.
I watch it happen right now, as I carry his bride to the platform where they’re doing an earth child ceremony to be followed by an aesir mating ritual.
All the bonded earth children and even some who aren’t bonded, by the looks of it, have turned out, all wearing their best clothing, and all of them are smiling.
It’s all going very, very well, right up until the cleric asks whether anyone present objects to the couple.
You know, a massive voice projects. I heard that earth children had a portion of their marriage ritual with this question. Thunar’s smiling—Odin’s eldest child with Frigg.
He’s a total nightmare.
Always angry. Mean. Nasty. Never helpful, not to anyone. The rumor is that his bonded despises him so much that he ran away almost right after accepting the bond.
I’ve certainly never seen him.
Thunar’s barely better than a vanir, and now he’s trying to ruin Freya’s wedding.
I should keep quiet, but I can’t do it. I fly straight upward and turn to face off against him.
Freya shouldn’t have to defend herself at her own wedding.
This practice is intended for earth children who have a right to object, I say.
It’s for loved ones, not for creatures filled with hate.
Filled with hate? Thunar gnashes his enormous teeth. I’m filled with disgust. My mother was killed by Freyr, this creature’s evil brother. Freja was there when her death happened, as were you. And now you’re here, and my father’s choosing to mate with her? It’s repugnant.
You’re a disgrace, I say. You’re ruining their happy day because of your own unresolved grief. Just because you’re ugly, you’re trying to spread that to them. You should be ashamed.
Thunar launches up, up, up, his massive wings pumping so much air that they knock dozens and dozens of earth children to the ground.
His exhalation and grim smile make his pleasure in causing pain quite clear.
Ashamed? I suppose I should be ashamed. My father’s masquerading as a weak, pathetic earth child.
I want to hide, but that won’t help him or our people.
Instead of wallowing in grief, I’ll embrace an aesir tradition on his happy day.
He spins around then, a massive wind gust throwing earth children and aesir alike into the side wall of the enclosure.
I challenge you, Odin flame blessed, leader of the aesir.
Your terrible decisions signal that the time has come for you to step aside. Do it now, or die.
I feel Freya’s gasp from here. The bond’s practically trembling.
Before I can say a word, Odin takes off toward his son, already shifted into his blood-red aesir form.
He slams into his bully of a son, knocking them just over the edge of the canyon chamber and into the entry area.
The combined weight of their bodies destroys a large part of the side of the mountain, sending piles of rocks crumbling into the canyon.
Every creature with wings takes off, most of them carrying earth children on their backs. It’s partially self-defense of course, but many others, like me, want to be able to watch. I wing my way to Freya’s side, shocked she hasn’t shifted yet. When I reach her, she’s nearly naked.
My eyes widen. “Freya—”
“Your mother’s gown.” Her eyes look distraught as she gestures. “I’m sorry to leave it in the dirt.” But then she shifts and launches into the air, following her husband upward to where his son’s trying his hardest to kill him.
I almost take off after them, but a tiny spark reminds me that Freya was wearing the heart.
Sure enough, she tossed it on top of Mother’s gown.
I gather both up in my arms and fly the gown back to Mom’s cottage.
I tie the heart around my neck again and join the group that’s flying low to the ground, watching the flaming attacks happening high up in the clouds.
I can sense that Freya’s above me, but I’m not sure what she’s doing. I want to fly to her, but I’m afraid I’d become a liability. The last thing I want is to give Thunar a way to defeat his father.
Odin’s strong, I tell Freya. He’ll triumph.
Then I sense it.
Her terror.
A massive red creature plummets from high, high, high up in the air, heading straight down like a comet. It collides into the earth a mile or two from where I am, and my wings pump furiously toward it. It must be Odin—is it Odin?
Freya’s not responding.
She’s absolutely petrified.
And that’s not good.
When I finally reach the gathered throng, there are two huge red aesir, not just one. Odin’s poised over the wrecked body of Thunar, and his fangs are dripping lava down onto his son. I’ll finish him for this.
No! Freya shoots between them, pressing one clawed leg against Odin. Spare him as my wedding gift. That’s all I ask.
Why? Why would she beg for Thunar’s life?
He must die, Odin says. He challenged me and our marriage. He looks sad, but he looks resolved.
Please, Freya says. Our people need his strength. They need his loyalty, and they need to know there’s room here for everyone. We’re not going to allow the hatred that has always persisted between our people, not here, not in any form, not anymore.
Odin’s nostrils flare, and his body shakes, but eventually, he steps back.
Thunar, flame blessed aesir, I spare your life this day, but you will never take my position.
You will never lead our people. The aesir will never answer to you, not under any circumstance.
It’s as though you died today, and now you only live by the grace of our vanir queen.
He looks around at the gathered aesir. Witness and acknowledge.
Every single aesir present bows their head and murmurs their agreement.
Thunar’s stuck in the old ways. They don’t work.
Freya and I are changing our ways and our people’s future.
Together, we will unite the vanir and the aesir, and we will make a place for us to coexist peacefully with the earth children who were here before us.
I will eliminate anyone who interferes with our vision. Am I clear?
No one argues.
Not even Thunar.
Freya and Odin call the aesir who hadn’t joined them over, and they complete their mating flight right there, over the half-dead body of his challenger. It’s both beautiful, dangerous, and disturbing, like the ferocity of the aesir and the vanir naturally is anyway.
I must be deranged to be bonded to one.
But I do admire their desire to change the world around us.
I’m proud to be a part of it. The other aesir have wandered off, flown away, or gathered up their bonded and winged away, leaving me alone beside Thunar’s wrecked form.
I wonder what happened, exactly. The hardest fights are always between aesir with the same affinity. The flame blessed aesir are the worst of all. They’re impervious to heat or flame, so the only way they can injure one another is by claw and tooth.
Only, when I look at Thunar, he’s not splayed open like he should have been with Odin’s teeth or some kind of massive mauling force.
He is crumpled, bruised, and seemingly broken, but most of that looks like it happened from his fall.
No, the only severe wound I see is a dark, spreading, black mark on his chest that appears to be radiating outward.
Like he was pierced with a spear of ice.
Something that would destroy any flame blessed aesir in existence.
The aesir and the vanir were always opposites—balanced perfectly to offset the other.
The strike blessed are the lightning to the storm’s wind.
The moon vanir conceal in the air above while the water blessed hide underneath the ocean.
And the ice vanir are perfectly set to destroy or be quenched by flame.
But challenges must always be carried out between one aesir and another, just those two. It’s forbidden for another to interfere. Surely Freya wouldn’t. . . What? Prevent her new husband’s miserable son from killing his own father? Break the rules the vanir might not even share?
Is it even breaking the rule if a vanir interferes? She’s not an aesir, not really.
This union will doom our people, witch, Thunar rasps.
I jump sideways, shocked he’s even conscious with as crumpled, torn, and bruised as he is.
You witnessed it yourself. My father forsook me and my mother’s memory for that she-devil. He welcomed our ruin through the door himself. He finally collapses.
I’m busy trying to revive him when the vanir begin to pop out of nowhere. Stupid moon vanir snuck another attack force into Valhalla today of all days.
Poor Freya can’t catch a break.
She’s stuck attacking her husband’s son and her own people on her wedding day. After hours and hours and heavy casualties, Odin and Freya finally win their second fight of the day, but I’m not sure anyone could call their wedding a success, not under any definition of that word.
And I can’t help fearing what this beginning means for our future.