Chapter 9 Gullveig
Gullveig
Bedtime’s the best part of every day.
Every day I plan to do less, but every day I wind up working all day—training, teaching, cooking, and brawling—so every part of me aches.
But especially my shoulders.
After scrubbing with the warm water Freya’s servants brought, I finally feel clean. I’m about to sink down into my fluffy feathered bed when I hear them.
“Gullveig!” My brother’s children miss him. I know they do. I miss him, too. Sometimes it’s a sharp kind of misery, like a knife dragged across my palm. Other times, it’s a quiet ache.
Being around his babies makes me feel better.
I think it might be the same for them—they need me when they’re hurting more than any other time.
“Tell us a story!” Like me, they’ve had trouble sleeping ever since he died, especially Brunhilda, his youngest. It helps to know that Gorm’s sacrifice wasn’t in vain, but even that isn’t enough. She’s not a warrior, not even close, and it’s still a scary world.
“Please, Gullveig! We’ve been asking and asking.” Brunhilda’s pleading tone tells me just how her sweet little face will look.
And I already know what story she wants. It’s her favorite—always has been, even before we had hope for a better outcome. I really want to sleep, but I can’t deny them.
“Fine.” I chuck my coverlet back and try not to stomp into their adjoining room. It’s not their fault I’m so tired.
Gorm’s oldest child is a warrior through and through, but even áki enjoys a good story. He sits up the second he sees me, his smile wide and open. At seventeen, his shoulders are broad, his jaw nearly bare of the baby fat that I loved so much. Whiskers have begun to sprout on his chin and lip.
He almost looks like a man.
It breaks my heart.
“I’m here,” I say. “Only one story, though. No more. You know tomorrow’s a big day.”
“Tell us about the wedding,” Brunhilda says. “Is it going to be the most beautiful thing we’ve ever seen?”
“It’s not even a real wedding,” Sif says. “They’re getting married to keep the vanir from attacking. That’s what Rut said.”
“Rut was wrong.”
Sif’s pretty jaded for fourteen years, but I don’t blame her. Losing her dad was hard. Really, really hard. I still have trouble getting up in the morning, and I’m an adult. I had lots of time with my beloved brother, and it still wasn’t enough.
“Odin loves Freya, and she adores him, too. They’re staving off a war, but they’re doing it with happy hearts, and the wedding will be beautiful.”
“Tell us about how it all started, then.” I’m shocked it took Brunhilda so long to ask. She’s usually clamoring for this from the start. “More details this time. I still don’t really understand it.” Her eyes are bright, and her hands are twisted in front of her.
“Fine.” I climb into the bed with them, and I lean back against the wall. Brunhilda scrambles onto my lap, and Sif leans against my side. Only áki holds his position, but I’m not fooled. He’s just as keen on the story as they are. I can tell.
“In the beginning, there were only earth children who lived under our sun. Jore created us all to tend to the earth she loved, and she gave us this beautiful place where we could flourish because she loved us. We had trees, grasses, flowers, and grains. Animals were abundant. The earth children were happy and blessed, but we were also lonely. Other than birds, nothing filled the air overhead. Nothing swam in the great waters other than small fish and serpents.”
“And then?” Brunhilda balls her hands into fists, her eyes bright.
“One night, as she was preparing to slumber, Jore heard something new. She heard a great roaring, like the wind of a mighty storm, but stronger, and the skies overhead were clear of rain. She looked farther upward, marveling at the great expanse of the universe she’d never traveled.
When she looked a little farther than ever before, she finally saw him. ”
“Veralden!” Sif says. “Right?”
I smile. “Veralden Radian was a god of the sky. He was powerful, and he was fierce, and he had traveled for thousands and thousands of years, and in all that time, he had never discovered anything he could not destroy. Because he had slain all his enemies, he was also lonely. He longed to find something more—he longed to find true beauty.”
“And he did, that very night,” áki says.
“That’s right,” I say, wondering why they want to hear a story they already know word-perfect.
“But when Veralden saw Jore, he was utterly smitten. As he stared at her, the thunder struck all around, plunging deep into the earth. Wind battered the homes, trees, and vegetation, and the earth children ran and hid.”
“But Jore wasn’t scared,” Sif says. “She liked it.”
I smile. “You’re right that she wasn’t scared.
She had finally met someone—something like her.
Powerful. Beautiful. Fascinating. As she moved, the earth rotated.
The living things all shifted toward her.
In her physical form she was small, but she drew on all the strength of her true nature, and as she moved toward Veralden Radian, he could not look away.
She was everything warm and full of life that he’d never before seen. ”
Brunhilda claps.
“And then,” I say, drawing this part out, “when they finally met, Jore was drawn to the fierce Veralden. She couldn’t turn away from him either. He was strange and marvelous and powerful, and she was in awe.”
“And then?” Brunhilda shifts so she can see my face.
“Then, Veralden tried to take her with him, as he did with everything he wanted. Jore laughed, and as she did, the world around them burst into bloom. Her joy filled the world with life and energy, and Veralden Radian was entranced. Instead of claiming her like a possession, for the first time, he wanted to give something of himself instead. For the very first time, Veralden Radian didn’t want to destroy.
He wanted to create. He wanted to thank Jore for the beauty she’d shared.
So he leaned over slowly, and he kissed her. ”
Even Sif’s smiling, though she’s hiding it with her hand.
“Although they loved one another a great deal, a god like Veralden Radian could not stay—he was made to always move. His power was not in resting, but in conquering, in exploring, and in discovering. Jore could not go with him—her whole being was tied to earth and home and growth and creation. She could no more follow him than a fish could fly. But when they kissed, something happened.”
“It made the heartstone,” áki says.
“The most beautiful, most powerful stone in existence,” I say.
“It’s the convergence of the power of the earth and the sky.
And with its existence, for the first time, the magnificent Veralden Radian created children of his own, and he left them with his beloved Jore.
They could stay with her in a way he never could, thanks to the part of her she had infused in him that night. ”
“The children of the sky,” Sif says. “The vanir and the aesir.”
“Even so,” I say. “They watched over the earth children and brought us excitement, magic, and power we had never known before.”
“At first,” áki says. “But then, the vanir discovered that they could bond with the earth children. Through that bond, they could claim, and they could also destroy.”
“That’s a story for another night,” I say. “It’s time for bed now.”
“Tomorrow, two sky children who want to protect Jore’s earth children will marry,” Sif says. “To honor their father’s will.”
“And Freya brought us the heart stone,” Brunhilda says. “Now that the aesir have it, we’ll all be safe again.”
I shift Brunhilda over, and I pat the bed where Sif needs to move. “That’s all true. After tomorrow, the vanir won’t be able to terrorize earth’s children, not anymore. Our aesir heroes will keep us safe, just as Jore and Veralden Radian always wanted.”
“Dad died to help Freya escape,” áki says. “Without him, Odin and Freya couldn’t marry.”
“That’s mostly correct,” I say. “We’ll talk about it more after the wedding, alright?” I pat Sif’s head. “Your father was a hero, for sure, and we’ll all be thinking of him tomorrow, even Freya herself.”
“Will we see the heartstone?” Brunhilda’s biting her lip.
“Yes,” I say. “You’ll see it tomorrow, and trust me. Once you’ve seen it, you’ll never, ever forget it.”