Chapter 42 #2
"You throw words around like reason, but you do not answer my wife’s question," Odin rumbles.
"You’re operating on pure emotion, Nimue.
Earth is a bigger problem, not something you can just fix by opening a door.
The planet is not completely cut off and never has been.
Your people can still reach it, as can the Valkyrie. "
I find myself leaning forward, absorbing every word of this exchange like I'm back in tactical training. My brain catalogs each revelation, each implication, filing them away for future reference.
Earth isn't the only world. The concept still sends a jolt through me, like someone rearranging the furniture in my mind. I've spent my entire life believing I knew the boundaries of reality, only to discover I've been living in just one room of an enormous house.
I glance between the three royals, reading the centuries of disagreement in their postures. This isn't just politics. It's fundamentally different worldviews colliding across a dinner table.
Nimue turns to me suddenly. "What do you think, Astrid Mathieson? You're from Earth. Do you believe your world should remain forever cut off from the other realms?"
All eyes turn to me, and my pulse quickens with the familiar surge of being unexpectedly called into a superior's office. I carefully set down my fork, buying myself precious seconds while my GUIDE training kicks in. Deep breath. Neutral expression. Speak from facts, not speculation.
"I think," I say slowly, choosing each word with the care of someone navigating a minefield, "that I don't have enough information to offer a meaningful opinion.
Until a week ago, I didn't even know other realms or planets existed.
I hunted magickal creatures because I thought they were all dangerous monsters. "
I meet Nimue's gaze steadily, watching her eyes narrow slightly at my admission.
The tension in the room thickens. I've just confessed to being what magickal beings would consider a murderer, but I keep pressing forward.
"Perhaps before debating whether to open doors," I continue, "we should consider who gets trampled when they swing. "
A week ago, I would have been on the other side of that door with a weapon drawn.
Now I'm sitting at a table with beings I once would have tried to capture or kill.
The irony isn't lost on me, but I refuse to flinch from my past. It's what gives me perspective neither side of this ancient argument seems to have.
A moment of silence follows my statement, heavy as a fully loaded tactical vest. I hold Nimue's gaze, refusing to look away first. A silent contest of wills. My heartbeat pounds in my ears as I brace for rebuke or outrage.
Then Odin speaks, his voice breaking the tension like thunder after lightning.
"Well said, granddaughter."
Granddaughter. My breath catches, and for a moment, I'm struck completely speechless.
Odin the All-Father—a literal god from mythology—just called me his granddaughter.
Heat rises unexpectedly behind my eyes, and I blink rapidly against the sudden emotion.
My wolf stirs within me, not with aggression but with a warm sense of belonging.
I turn to meet Odin's gaze and see acceptance, perhaps even pride and that makes my throat tighten.
I manage a small nod, unable to form words around the lump in my throat.
In that single word, he's offered me something I didn't realize I was missing…
a place in this new world, not just as Fen's mate, but as part of a family. His family.
"You surprise me, Astrid. Most humans would leap at the chance to access the magick and wonders of the other realms."
"Most humans haven't seen what I've seen," I reply evenly.
"Which brings us back to why you're really here, Nimue," Odin says, his tone making it clear he's tired of diplomatic circling.
"You feared Astrid had died, ending the quest to find all the Knights' mates and restore their soul shards.
A quest you believe will eventually sway the royalty in all realms to your position now that the Council has lost its power. "
"I came because I heard disturbing news about a chimera attack and wanted to verify the outcome for myself. Is that so difficult to understand? We share common goals, even if we disagree on what follows."
"Do we?" Odin leans forward, his single blue eye suddenly glowing bright gold. "Or do you seek to manipulate events to serve the siren’s interests alone?"
Before I can process this sudden emotional ambush, the air in the room shifts, becoming heavy with power. My hand twitches toward my hip instinctively. But I’m reaching for a sidearm that isn't there. Old habits.
The hair on my arms stand on end as Odin continues to stare at Nimue, his eye burning brighter. His canines elongate and a growl rolls from his chest.
Nimue doesn't back down. Instead, she meets his gaze directly, her own eyes shifting to a luminous silver, her posture remaining perfectly poised even as her teeth visibly lengthen and sharpen in response.
Beside Odin, Frigga's eyes flash the same amber-gold, though she maintains her serene composure.
They really are all wolves. Not just Fen, but every Asgardian.
I'd intellectually understood this fact, but seeing it displayed sends a cold shiver down my spine. I am one of them now, too.
"I have always served the interests of all eight realms," Nimue says, each word precise and calm despite the tension. "Even when others retreated behind their borders and abandoned Earth to its fate."
"You've served your own interests as well," Odin counters, though the gold in his eye dims slightly. "As we all do."
"Perhaps," Nimue concedes with elegant grace. "But my interests align with finding all the Knights' mates and restoring balance among the realms. Which is why I was concerned when I heard about Astrid's close call with death."
I open my mouth to speak, but a soft press of Fen’s hand on my leg silences me. I glance at him and he shakes his head. “Let them finish this. This argument has been a long time coming,” he whispers.
I nod.
"Well, you’ve quite established Astrid's well-being," Frigga says smoothly, "perhaps we should all take a moment?” The glow fades from everyone's eyes, and Frigga gestures for servants to clear the main course plates and bring dessert.
Odin releases a low growl and then sits back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Then looks over at me and then to Fen. “I suppose you’ll want to leave again to present her to King Stormblood in Avalon? And to the Table?”
“I don’t want to leave again so soon, Grandfather, but yes."
Table? What table?
"I would be happy to provide transport," Nimue offers.
I catch the quick glance Fen exchanges with his grandparents. There's hesitation there, though I don't understand why.
"That's generous," Fen says carefully. "But we will use our own bridge to Camelot."
I watch this exchange with interest, noting the undercurrents. There's more happening here than I understand, but I trust Fen to explain later, in private.
"Astrid will need appropriate attire for travel," Frigga says, smoothly changing the subject as dessert is served—something that resembles a pastry filled with bright blue fruit.
"I'll not have a granddaughter of mine dressed in anything less than Asgard's finest to meet the Fae king.
Fen, I would appreciate it if you dressed more for your station this time as well and not like a common tower guard. "
I resist the urge to tug at the already-ornate gown I'm wearing, imagining even more elaborate outfits that would make stealth and quick movement impossible.
Five years in tactical gear and practical boots has left me with a deep suspicion of anything that rustles when you walk.
And "Asgard's finest" sounds dangerously close to something that might require a manual to put on.
"I kind of like the common tower guard look," I murmur, earning a soft chuckle from Fen.
Dessert proceeds with lighter conversation. Nimue asks polite questions about my background on Earth, carefully avoiding topics related to GUIDE or my work as an Inquisitor. Each inquiry feels less like small talk and more like an intelligence briefing. She's mapping me the best she can.
I answer with equal care, sharing general facts while omitting details that might be sensitive. It's a dance I'm familiar with from years of government work, revealing enough to seem cooperative without exposing vulnerabilities.
I watch Nimue across the rim of my goblet, reassessing my initial impression. She's not just politically dangerous. She's dangerous the way a precision weapon is dangerous. Elegant, controlled, and designed for a specific purpose.
As the meal concludes, Nimue rises gracefully from her seat. "I should be going, thank you for your hospitality." She tips her head to Odin and Frigga. Then her gaze turns and lingers on me. "Rest well, Astrid Mathieson. Camelot will be... an experience."
"I look forward to it," I reply evenly.
The words come out with practiced neutrality, but inside, my thoughts race. That wasn't just polite conversation, it was a warning wrapped in diplomatic courtesy. Something waits for us in Camelot that Nimue thinks might unsettle me.
Well, I've faced down chimeras and survived my own death this week. Whatever "experience" Camelot has in store, I'll handle it the same way I've handled everything else since meeting Fen… one impossible situation at a time.
Once Nimue has departed, the remaining tension in the room dissipates. "She hasn't changed," Odin mutters. "Still believing she can charm her way to whatever she desires."
"Don't underestimate her," Frigga cautions. "Nimue has spent millennia perfecting the art of getting what she wants."
"And what exactly does she want?" I ask. "Besides opening the door to Earth?"