Chapter 7
FREYR
“Shhh! You’ll wake the cats!” I slurred. I could barely hold Ravnur upright as we tumbled into the bedchamber reserved for Freya’s guests.
Dinner had been lovely, the wine had flowed plentifully, and because I was more used to drinking ale than my sister’s vintage, I had grown very drunk, very quickly.
And so, it seemed, had Ravnur.
“You can’t wake cats.” He giggled, turning in the hold I had about his waist and gripping the edges of my tunic. He tugged, and we spun as if in a clumsy dance, only for the backs of my knees to hit the bed, and down we toppled. Ravnur giggled again as he clambered atop me.
“You can’t?” I blinked at him. He was warm and a pleasant amount of weighty atop me. I wanted to envelop that warmth and weight, and thus slid my hands up the back of his tunic.
“Nope.” Ravnur shifted to better slot his hips against mine and spoke while mouthing up my neck like the echo of kisses. “Cats do as they please and always have one eye already open.”
That made sense somehow. As did letting Ravnur’s mouthing turn to actual kisses when he reached my cheek and moved to my lips. His lips were soft and reddened, and his tongue tasted like juicy, ripened grapes.
Freya and the girls had gone to bed earlier, while Ravnur and I kept on drinking.
And drinking.
And drinking.
Now I wanted to drink him down and made a valiant effort to do so by sucking his tongue.
There was nothing outside this kiss, only its warmth, weight, and wonder.
The fuzziness from the wine kept the last of my doubts at bay, and so I had chased that feeling with more and more, and Ravnur matched me.
I liked being in this haze, in the comfort of bliss, as if, truly, nothing else existed.
Not Ragnarok.
Not my obligations.
Not my mistakes.
Not my losses…
Ravnur rolled his hips where they pressed into mine, and a spike of white-hot yearning shot through my loins.
I bucked up, and as another spike ignited the flames all through me, I rolled us upon the large guest bed until I was the one on top.
The pink flush to Ravnur’s cheeks, the redness to his kiss-bitten and wine-stained lips, made me as hungry, as ravenous, as if we had never had dinner.
And also suddenly sober.
But not sober enough.
I rolled away, off of Ravnur to lie beside him.
“S-sorry,” he huffed. Both of us were panting, and though Ravnur’s gaze still looked glassy when I glanced at him, I could see a bit of sobering sense had taken hold of him too. “I didn’t mean to lose myself.”
“You and me both.” I reached to cup his cheek so he would know it was not his touch that repelled me, but sense.
“I am utilizing all of my willpower to not take you right now, but you are more than my next conquest, little raven. You could be my last. And I want our first time together to be with soberer minds. Also, when it is time, you will need more… preparation.”
“So I have heard.” Ravnur snorted. “And felt.” He was drunk enough to still be bold, for he traced his fingers over the bulge in my trousers that he had no doubt felt while grinding atop me.
He retracted his touch quickly though and nuzzled his cheek against my palm.
“But this, tonight, is enough. Any time spent in your presence, Fricco, is enough. And should you ever need or want anything from me, please know I am always, will always be here for you. No matter how this ends.”
Oh, how much I hadn’t realized those words were needed.
I couldn’t bear losing Ravnur from my life as I’d lost Gerdr. I couldn’t bear not having his company, his friendship, his…
whole-heartedly given affections. And it was then that I fully realized I couldn’t bear not having him right here as he was now. With me.
As tempting as my wine-addled brain made it to take Ravnur right here in this bed, I held my resolve and kissed him sweetly, chastely, in good night.
“Thank you, Raven. And so too, will I be here for you.”
Ravnur and I fell asleep quickly, though it was I who roused first, just before dawn.
With a sobered mind, I felt restless merely lying beside him.
He was always lovely, but somehow lovelier still without the burdens of waking life in his expression.
Had I not feared waking him, I might have kissed him for how tempting his partially parted lips looked.
Instead, I risked waking him another way by leaving the bed, but thankfully, the bounce from the removal of my weight barely stirred him.
I slipped outside, seeking to settle my disquiet with fresh air and the view of the rising sun. On a clear morn, it was always beautiful to see the radiant reds and purples of dawn, but in Freya’s domain, watching it between distant mountains at the river’s edge was especially spectacular.
Us gods do not choose our domains, the tenets that encompass our nature.
We are gods of what we naturally come to have the most affinity for.
The sun is constant, magnificent, and only a danger if not enjoyed in moderation.
Rain is as well, and there is peace to be found in both.
A good harvest cannot exist without both.
Abundance is found in the give and take of nature.
To be truly prosperous and at peace, one must give themselves over to all we are helpless to control.
Because I believed that more than anything, I became the god that could control such things.
But as I was wont to express my abundance in bedchambers, I never truly knew love the way my sister did. I never understood it until I thought I had it and lost it.
“What are you doing?” Freya’s voice reached me, and because I could sense her nearness, I did not bother turning to look but continued to watch the horizon.
“Enjoying the sunrise. There was a time when we weren’t sure if we would see another one, remember?” It had always been foretold of Ragnarok that us gods who perished and the realms lost to darkness would be reborn, but we could never be certain until it was upon us.
“I mean,” Freya said pointedly, coming up to stand beside me, wearing a dark blue shawl she had clutched around her to combat the morning briskness, “what are you doing with that poor infatuated boy?”
“You keep calling him that, but Ravnur is no mere boy, sister.”
“He is young for an elf! He is also absolutely in love with you.”
“I know.”
“Well?”
“I’m not running.” I glanced at her, and her incredulous look in reply made me add, “I’m not avoiding either. I’m pacing myself! Having bedded half my people, believe me, rushing into bed has not gotten me anything but—”
“Off?”
“Sister!”
“Oh please.” She looked out to watch the sunrise herself.
“I like him and simply wish to know if you are stringing him along, or is this finally, maybe, it for you? As in the real it that spans ages and will be told as epics across the realms?” The sudden softness to her voice, teasing though it remained, made me smile.
I looked out again at the brightening sunrise too.
“I do not doubt Ravnur’s affections. I perhaps still doubt mine.
Maybe because I am afraid. It all seemed so clear when I spotted him at your stables, yet when I think of a future with someone, anyone, I worry those affections could be fleeting, and he’ll come to his senses someday.
Others have professed love or lust for me, but they do not know me as anything more than their god and king.
Ravnur is my friend, but he doesn't know me as an equal either, not really, and not yet as a lover. What if he no longer feels the same once he does?”
“How could you ever know if you do not meet him on equal ground and let that intimacy blossom naturally?”
“I'm trying to. But sometimes, all I see of myself is my flaws and reasons for him to eventually leave me as Gerdr did. If I give myself to him, if I give over to this blossoming love within me, and still lose him, what will be left of me?”
Freya’s answering silence was unlike her. I rarely left my sister speechless. Eventually, she sighed. “No one is perfect. Although, as far as cocks go, yours does qualify.”
“Sister!” I looked to her with even more of a start—only to see Loki where she had been.
“Yes, brother?” He twiddled his fingers in a wave.
“Gods damn it! Must you do that?”
“What? Who else were you going to tell the truth to if not the lady of cats?”
I promptly shoved Loki for good measure, if brothers we be. He was insufferable, but I did believe he meant well. Usually.
The twitch and then fall of his wry smile said as much. “If you even think you love that little raven, and truly believe he loves you, why push that away out of fear? Love is rarer than you think. In trying to deny it when we find it, we only hurt ourselves.”
“That’s… quite insightful.” I blinked at him. “Are you sure you’re not Freya?”
“Fuck you.” He snorted. “The god of mischief can be insightful!”
“Maybe it’s Oli,” I ventured, “affecting you as much—”
Loki blinked out of existence right before my eyes.
Typical. And foolish. For by running, he proved my point, and in fact, proved the point he had tried to make to me! No one ever said the trickster god took his own advice. But what advice he had given was sound. I didn’t want to run. I didn’t want to doubt.
And I really did want to be sober before taking Ravnur to bed.
The sun was fully risen now, and after enjoying its splendor for a few more moments, I turned back to Freya’s homestead.
Ravnur appeared before I had taken my first step, exiting the home in search of me.
His worried expression eased into a smile when he saw me.
He was still dressed in the outfit he’d passed out in, hair tousled, as if he had risen and not spared a moment for anything other than finding me.
He met me halfway, and I couldn’t resist smoothing his tangled locks.
“We should head back,” I said. “We both have daily duties to perform. But if I do not see you again until the evening meal, would you meet me down by the lake after dusk?”
“Of course.” Ravnur took my hand and held it to his chest.
The feel of its beat made me certain I could not turn back now.