Hi everyone! This one's a little shorter than the last couple chapters but is actually more important. Just a little note: the paragraphs in bold text are the excerpts of the journal. I hope you all enjoy.

Chapter 9

Truth in the Lies

"If you truly want honesty, don't ask questions you don't really want the answer to."

-Proverb

Freyja stared at Thor in confusion, trying to comprehend his meaning, while Loki let out a low chuckle.

"Thor, why are in my bedchamber?" she asked, finally coming to her senses.

"I came to deliver news, but I see that you are currently occupied," he muttered, staring at his brother who was still only wearing the sheet.

"Honestly, brother," Loki said with a grin, "I have warned you many times to knock before entering a room, lest you see something you wish you hadn't."

"Exactly how long have you two been – when did this begin?"

"A month ago," Freyja answered, but Loki spoke at the same time.

"The night after Mother told us Freyja had chosen a suitor," he replied calmly.

Thor looked from Loki, to Freyja, and back to his brother as if still trying to determine whether he was hallucinating or not.

"Well, this is a relief," he sighed, tucking something back into his shirt. "Shall I tell Mother and Father the good news?"

"No!" they both shouted, scrambling off the bed.

"You don't wish to tell them of the plans?"

"There's nothing to tell," Loki hissed.

He looked at them in surprise, "But I was led to believe-"

"My father does not approve of Loki," Freyja explained. "But I will not sacrifice my happiness for my father's."

"Your father knows nothing of this?"

"Not a hint."

He looked at Loki with what seemed to be pity, "King Njord is going to skin you alive and feed you to the Nidhogg."

"Only if you tell anyone," Loki pointed out.

"You want me to keep it from them?"

"Thor, if my father catches wind of this, he'll personally drag me back to Vanaheim and force me to marry whoever happens to be the most worthy in his eyes," Freyja said, hoping that he would listen. "I beg of you, do not condemn me to such a fate."

The golden prince glanced at his brother before returning his gaze to meet her desperate eyes, giving a sigh of resignation. He considered Freyja a good friend. Who was he to deprive her and his brother of what they had found?

"You have my word. I will not tell a soul of this."

Freyja exhaled in relief, but Loki apparently still had a question he wanted to ask.

"Don't leave just yet, brother. You've yet to deliver Freyja her news."

"Ah," Thor said stiffly, looking everywhere but at their faces. "It is of no importance."

"And yet you barged into her room, completely unannounced, just after dawn? It must have held some weight."

He tossed something small onto the bed, turning to walk out so that they wouldn't notice his embarrassment, "That should answer your question. I must leave now."

Freyja walked back to the bed while Loki watched his brother leave. Amongst the blankets lay a small silvery ring. It looked as if Thor had attempted to forge it himself, leaving it rather lopsided. Reaching down to pick it up, she snatched her fingers back with a hiss as her skin brushed against the cold metal.

"Iron," she cursed, looking down at her blistered fingers. "Of all the mistakes he could have made, he chooses to forge an engagement ring crafted from the one metal that burns us."

Loki picked up the ring as she healed her fingertips, "Even for Thor, that sort of mistake is strange. At least he seems to have forged it himself."

She watched as he pocketed the lump of metal with a grin, "What about this situation amuses you?"

"For once in my life, I have managed to obtain something before Thor."

"Something?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "So I am a possession now?"

He winced as he realized what he had said, "Well, I can't very well say yes when you're looking at me like that, can I? You might turn me into a hat stand for your students."

She laughed, losing all seriousness in the moment. It was always this way with Loki. He would cause the atmosphere to become light-hearted when it became too solemn for his taste. It made him impossible to stay irate with him. But that was what she loved the most, his ability to make her smile.

Being Princess of a Realm often meant being locked up inside a royal palace with nothing to do for most of the day. As Freyja was never one for constriction, she often filled her days with either teaching or running around the villages doing whatever tickled her fancy at the time. A week after her and Loki's problem of Thor, this just so happened to be shopping with Ottar.

Though the royal cooks were able to order ingredients to arrive straight to the kitchens, Ottar enjoyed finding the rare oddity that could be spied in the markets. He had an amusing habit of concocting delicious creations out of the most peculiar items. She often brought him different fruits and spices from the garden Loki had given her, causing him to run around the kitchens in a fit of overenthusiasm. It was quite the sight to behold.

He picked up a handful of small amber berries as he inspected them, "Freyja, you've been to Midgard. Are these truly 'cloudberries' from the Realm of humans?"

She examined them from where she stood, "Yes. But I suggest you find a few that are slightly overripe. When fresh, they are a bit tart. If you buy these, you'll want to wait a few days for them to sweeten."

"You are truly lucky to have journeyed to so many realms. I'd give both my arms to see what delicacies grow in Alfheim and Midgard."

"You would need both arms in order to use such delicacies," she noted with a smile.

A thoughtful look crossed his face, "I suppose you're right…"

She bit back a laugh at his disheartened tone, "Do not worry. Perhaps I will take you one day."

"Truly?" he looked at her in surprise.

"Of course. I could ask Loki to persuade Odin into allowing you a temporary leave."

"Perhaps then I can find my pedigree…"

"What are you speaking of?"

There was a hint of grief in his eyes when he answered her, "My parents died when I was young. No one knew anything about them accept for the fact that my father was not Asgardian. I'd like to find out more about them, so as to learn about myself."

Freyja thought about that, wondering why Ottar had never told her before. But she also wondered about his want to learn more, bringing to mind her own mother of which she knew so little about. Her father had very rarely spoken of Queen Van, and the servants had said even less.

But she shook her head to dispel the thoughts, offering her friend a smile, "It's settled then, I will take you to Midgard and Alfheim someday."

He laughed, "There is no talking you out of this, is there?"

"I thought you wanted this."

"Yes, but I have duties to perform. Such a travel can wait."

"How can you shackle yourself to the palace when I offer you a chance to see the Realms and possibly find more on your parents?"

He shrugged, "My priorities are different from yours. Come, we should return to the castle."

As they walked back to the golden gates before the palace, Freyja couldn't help wondering about their conversation. It seemed Ottar knew where to find information on his parents, or at least a broad idea of where, and yet she was unsure of who to ask about her mother. Once inside, she bid Ottar farewell and went in search of her brother. If there was anywhere to start, it was with him.

The only problem with searching for Freyr lay in the fact that the grounds were too large an area to effectively search. There was also the possibility that he was not even in the castle, but Freyja made sure to ask every other servant she passed. Most replied with an apology for not knowing where he was, but she thanked them anyway. With the guesses of several different servants, she made her way to the library of the castle.

The Royal Library was almost always empty as very few Asgardians took the time to read anything other than ancient battle techniques or war stories. However, there was, thanks to Frigga, a large section of literature from Vanaheim. Though this area mostly contained grimoires filled with information on magic, there were a few fictional novels and even a handful of history tomes. She had spent many days in the library when she was young, often reading any books on Asgardian history and customs as she could. It was, in fact, the very place she decided that she would be friends with Loki.

She found Freyr lounging in a comfortable beige armchair with a black leather book in his hands. He looked up at her with his silver eyes, smiling in return to hers. It was very likely that he knew what she wanted. They shared no secrets, aside from her relationship with Loki, and often knew what the other wished to say without having to speak.

"You have a question for me," he said softly, turning one of the pages.

"I was out with Ottar this morning when he brought up a topic I had not realized before."

"And what would that be?"

"Have you ever realized just how little we know of our mother?"

He paused from his book before setting it down and sitting up, "This has never concerned you before."

"Is it not strange that Father rarely mentions her?"

"I believe, despite his cold exterior, that it pains him to think of her. I cannot say I blame him for such."

"But there must be some way to learn more. Honestly, Freyr, we barely know who she was."

"I suppose there are her journals…"

"Journals?"

"Yes, Mother kept one journal for each year after she married Father. But they're locked up in his room under heavy enchantments."

"Why would Father keep her records hidden in his room?"

"How am I to know the reasons behind Father's actions?"

He stood up and returned the book to a shelf in the Asgardian section, "I should probably leave. I have a meeting in a few minutes."

"A meeting?"

He smiled at her, "You're not the only one Father wishes to marry off."

"Good luck," she called as he left the room.

Deciding that there may be some information within the few historical records in the Vanaheim section, Freyja spent the next hour combing through the tomes for any information on her mother. Much to her confusion, she found the information regarding her and her brother's birth to be incomplete. It seemed to be patched together as one would the scraps of old quilts, leaving large holes that caused her to wonder what had once been there.

She sighed as she replaced the last volume on the dark wooden shelves. It was a little past noon but she found she was not hungry. As she walked to the door, the sound of books tumbling to the floor caught her attention. Turning around, she noticed that the entire shelf she had just been looking through was now empty, its contents scattered across the floor. She narrowed her eyes at the shelf which was seemingly undisturbed.

Looking around to find the source of the mess, she found that she was entirely alone in the room. Perhaps Loki was playing one of his tricks? She shook her head at the thought. If it was Loki, he would have caused the books to grow teeth and chase her, as he had once done to Thor. She then searched the room mentally, but found there was no other consciousness in the room. She was completely alone.

She walked over to the mess of fallen books, replacing them on the shelf in the order she knew belonged to them. As she set the last book in place, she noticed she had forgotten one. It was velvet-bound, a technique used only in Vanaheim, with coiling silver lettering contrasting with the navy blue behind it. Flipping through the pages, she realized it was handwritten in the language of her people.

Glancing at the refilled shelf, she noticed that there was no more room for one more book. It had not been there before, so how had it turned up? She looked down at the title. Daybook of Enderyear. She stared at it in shock, recognizing the name of the year she had been born. With a final glance around, she took off to her room.

As soon as she entered her chambers, she realized someone had entered. It hadn't been one of the servants, either, for this person had left their magical signature in the room. With the use of a specific charm, she could read just whose it was. She was familiar with the magical signature, often displayed as a unique scent, of those closest to her. Her father's was sea salt, Freyr's could only be described as sunlight, Thor's was the clean air of the highest level of the atmosphere, Animi's had been sandalwood and sage, Loki's was cinnamon and mint, and she had the peculiar mix of the ocean breeze and wildflowers.

This one was completely unfamiliar to her, lemon and rosemary. There was no one in the room with her, but she felt on edge from the idea that someone had been in her chambers. Looking around, she spotted a piece of parchment on her desk which had not been there earlier in the morning. As she picked it up, she recognized the sloppy form of a being who had never written in the language of her people before.

"Forgive me for eavesdropping," she read aloud. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with your brother. It took quite the effort to break through your father's enchantments. I hope you make good use of my gift."

She stared at the unsigned note, wondering just what this stranger was playing at. Deciding against warning the guards of a man they couldn't possibly track, Freyja sat down on the chair which sat before the desk. Opening the strange book, she flipped to about halfway through it before skimming its contents.

Njord left for Alfheim this morn in attempts to renew the treaty. If the last treaty is any indication, he will be gone for many months. While he is away-

Freyja pulled herself away from the writing, glancing again at the cover. She stared at the pages in shock, wondering how the stranger could have gotten this book to her. If it was what she believed it to be, the stranger would have to be frighteningly powerful. Flipping a couple pages forward, she read a single passage that confirmed her guess.

The Healers have come to the conclusion that this morning's illness was indeed the product of a child. It has only been a week since he returned from Alfheim and I have great news for him. Elein has yet to stop tittering away with questions about the child. Whether I wish it to be a boy or a girl, I have yet to decide. A prince would be perfect, but a young girl to dote upon and personally teach would be splendid. I will simply have to wait to find out.

Elein, Freyja knew, had been Van's closest handmaid. Even after Van had died, Elein had watched out for her. Wanting to read her mother's memories closest to the birth, Freyja flipped excitedly to the date she and her brother had been born. However, something strange caught her eye a week before the date of their birth.

Njord is keeping something from me. I have not seen him so frightful since he returned from the Norns last summer solstice. When I awoke, his face had been replaced with that of an elder. He refused to tell me more than it was the price the Norns demanded when he spoke with them. But why would they wait so long before collecting their payment? Why not steal his beauty when he spoke with them?

He will not answer my questions. He only ever remains silent when there are no opportunities to speak in riddles. The only thing he tells me is that he must journey to Alfheim immediately. Perhaps there is some danger there that the Norns warned him of. What is he keeping from me?

She stared at the last sentence of the first paragraph in surprise. She had always known her father bore a face that was not his, but she had not been aware of the fact the Norns had caused him to appear that way. Shaking her head at the questions that arose, she flipped forward until she found the exact date they were born. Wondering if their mother had written an entry before the birth which caused her death, Freyja began reading only to stop at the first sentence.

It is a boy.

It took her a minute to gather her thoughts on such a simple sentence. Those four words caused her entire knowledge of her mother to unravel. Her father had said her mother had died at birth. The handwriting had not changed so it was clearly not her father writing a final entry for Van. Also, should it not say that there was both a boy and a girl? She forced herself to continue out of confusion.

It is a boy. Njord has yet to return but I will welcome him with the introduction of his son. I have named him Freyr, for he will be both a lord and a king to our people. I only wonder what is causing Njord such delays. I hope he returns before sunset.

Elein is thrilled with Freyr, holding him whenever I do not. When I search the future, I see he becomes a strong and wise man. I look forward to watching him grow.

Freyja ignored the next couple paragraphs, all of them telling of plans for celebrations in honor of Freyr. She wondered why her mother had not mentioned her as she skipped to the next day.

Njord returned late in the night, presenting me with a gift of his own. He says she is the daughter of a woman he cared for greatly, a woman who is now dead. Perhaps this child is the daughter of his sister, a woman he never mentions. She is a beautiful girl, but the aura of magic surrounds her at all times. I have never sensed such power in a child before. He was glad to see me welcome the girl with open arms, and even more thrilled at the sight of his son, but something seems to still weigh heavy on his mind.

The girl is a very strange, though lovely, child. She does not cry, even when Freyr screams out for me. She seems far too intelligent for her age and I believe she is half Æsir, for she has eyes so blue they cannot be anything but. When she sleeps, she leans close to either Freyr or I. Even without searching the future, I can see the compassionate woman she will become. I now have both a son and daughter to enjoy.

The more she read, the less sense the entire book seemed to make. She flipped through the pages until the page that marked two weeks after Freyr's birth caught her eye. The words were slightly messier, as if written by an unsteady hand, than the other pages, but she could still decipher what they said.

Lies.

He has lied to me. He has lied to me for as long as Freyr has been alive. I suppose his deceit is a product of my being naïve. A daughter of a woman he cared for, he had said. And not a word of it was false. He cared for the mother greatly. He cared for her and she bore him a child. I have seen the proof in the girl's eyes.

I had decided that she cannot be our niece, as she bears no golden ring in her eyes. I was wrong, yet right. She is not our niece, but she bears the mark of our royalty. She looked into the future not ten minutes before now, and I saw it. When her eyes turned silver, I saw it. She is his daughter, but she is not mine.

Has he lied to me before? When did he begin to keep secrets? Why did he turn to the embrace of another woman? Have I failed him? So many questions without answers to put aside my fears cloud my mind.

One thing I am certain of. He has created a monster. A halfling. There is no other explanation. She is of the Elves. The taint of magic which surrounds her, it must be spells placed upon her to keep the truth hidden. Now that I know, I can see under the illusion. I see the Elven marks. I see the failure of our marriage.

What can I do? I love Njord, yet he does not love me. Does it hurt him to look at my face in the morn and not that of his lover? Perhaps I should remove the face from his sight, to ease his sufferings. Perhaps, in such a way, I will never fail him again. Perhaps Freyr and Freyja will live a better life with a father who is not plagued with a woman he does not love.

I will not cause him pain any longer.

I will not cause the children pain over a marriage of lies.

I will end all our suffering.

Freyja flipped the page frantically, searching for more. Tearing through the pages as if trying to rip them out, she scanned the blank pages for more. It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. Her father's stories, her mother's journal, her entire life. Why did nothing make sense?

"Lies!" she screamed as she threw the book across the room at the wall.

It hit the platinum walls with a low thud, but she could still hear the words spinning around in her head. Rushing across the room, she kicked an armchair out of her way so that she could stand before a full-length mirror hanging on her wall.

Staring at the face in the mirror, she began to see the traces left behind of a very powerful illusion spell. She recognized it slowly and she knew why she had never seen it before. It had been a part of her as long as she had been alive. It had been there in her appearance every time she looked. So familiar it was that she had never noticed it to be there. She stripped herself of her Asgardian form before thinking of a strong revealing charm that would work.

"Faetor!" she screeched at the mirror.

As if she was cloaked in a threadbare tapestry, she watched the illusion fall away in pieces. She watched in horror as her ears grew slightly pointed ends and her hair turned the color of starlight. Stepping back from the sight, she willed the illusion to return. Her Asgardian form slipped back into place but she couldn't shake the image from her head.

She was a halfling. A dangerous breed of Vaniric blood and another race that was not of the Æsir. While the Æsir blood could mix properly with that of Vanaheim, no other could without producing a child of dangerous proportions. The halflings were the Jötunns of the Vanir's stories, the deadly monsters which had the power to destroy the worlds.

And she was one of them.

Without a second thought, she threw her door open and ran out. She raced down the halls, ignoring all of the concerned or irate servants she ran into. Through the halls and out of the palace, she continued running until she reached the Bifrost. She did not stop when she reached the rainbow bridge, but rather sped up as if the close distance urged her forward.

Heimdall gazed at her as she passed, following as she entered the Observatory with a detached look in her eyes. She knew he couldn't see into her chambers, thanks to the protective charms, but she needed him to know where she was going.

"Heimdall, open the Bifrost to Alfheim, if you would."

"Anywhere in particular, princess?"

"Somewhere that I can find answers," she muttered, pacing as she waited. "I'd wager you already know where that is."

The gatekeeper had an almost guilty look in his eyes as he slid his sword into the pedestal that worked as a switch for the Bifrost. She felt the familiar wash of overwhelming energy, but it only melded with the sickness she already felt. One word continued to run circles in her head, even as the myriad of light swallowed her whole.

Lies…