It took the girls a few days to adjust to the perpetual chill in the temple. Every morning, Bel delivered breakfast to their room, they took lunch in the dining hall alone, and they met Loki for supper. After a week, he began to come back to their room after supper to tell stories, both from the books on the shelves and stories from both the history of Asgard and the history of Jotunheim. Brynja occasionally even told a story from Midgardian history. Storytelling shortly was expanded to include illusions the girls could watch and explore, Loki and Brynja building the fantasy worlds together as they had done years before. The children were fascinated by the magic and stunned that their mother was able to use it. They were both even more surprised when they asked if she had shown their father what she could do and her answer was no.
One evening, when the girls had been tucked into bed and were sound asleep, Loki and Brynja sat at her breakfast table with tea, watching the stars, books on the table between them from their storytelling.
Loki took a few of the books back to the dresser and returned with Ginsberg's Howl, "Bryn, may I ask you something quite possibly very personal?"
As he sat down, she smiled, "Of course- when have I ever not answered your questions?"
He opened to the inscription and pointed to it, "Who was Sunflower?"
Brynja tenderly took the book from his hands and read the inscription, her fingers gently tracing over the handwriting, "She was so very dear to me. I loved her in a way I have loved so very few. She died a year later. She was so young, only 23, when the disease took her. It had only been identified as a disease a few years before. Nobody knew how to cure it- they still don't- but the drugs that make life long now for people with it didn't exist then. The disease was spread sexually or through blood- one of her former lovers had shared it with her. Sunflower fought it as best she could, but she met a terrible and painful death because of it. She's one of many warriors who lost that fight. I miss her still- her smile, her laugh, her sense of fun and play, and the way she would recite poetry at any opportunity. I'm sure you've figured out which poem in here was ours."
Loki reached across the table and took her hand, "Bryn...she was your lover? The woman who you have seen 'might have been' moments for in your Witchery?"
"Yes. One of many lovers over the years, but one of only a very few who I could have spent the rest of my life with."
"'We're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread bleak imageless locomotive, a beautiful golden sunflower inside...,'" Loki recited.
"Even as she died and her body withered, the disease destroying her in ways I could not imagine, yes, she was my beautiful golden Sunflower." Loki could feel her sadness from across the table. He did not know how to respond- he had never watched someone die from any sort of plague. Brynja rose slowly and went to her desk. She retrieved the photo album and brought it over to the table. He brought his chair next to hers and sat close to her.
She opened to the first page, "I only have one photo from my first trip in the 1920s. I landed in Chicago and spent a year there before hopping a train to Detroit. Both cities were alive with jazz and booze, the illegal bars the centre of city life. I loved it. I know there were a lot of bad men around town and I used my charm to meet a lot of low-level gangsters. This picture was taken in the United Artists theatre in Detroit the first year it was open- 1928. I left Midgard not very long after." She turned the page, "You'll recognise this woman. She's my Starlet." Loki stared at the images of the beautiful dark haired woman from the two larger photographs on the top of Brynja's trunks. The photographs were always glamorous, whether she was in a bathtub full of bubbles, surrounded by reporters, or in her silk loungewear. There were photographs of Brynja with her, her hair swept up, her suits tailored and her dresses nearly as stunning as those worn by her Starlet, her makeup perfect. Loki was drawn to one image in particular that was the size of a full page of the album- in it, Brynja was leaning out of the window of a panel truck handing a loaf of bread to a young woman in a very worn dress, a baby wrapped tightly on her back. The woman's eyes were desperate, her face gaunt and tired.
"When was this taken?" Loki asked.
"1936. I only came home a short time before going back. The United States and most of the rest of the world was in great suffering- people could not find work, their money ran out, and the were starving. The land was also drying up after years of poor farming practices and even the people living in once fertile regions suffered. I convinced my love to buy basic food items to hand out wherever we were. It wasn't much, overall, but to the families we helped, it meant the world."
"Was she another one of your great loves?" Loki asked.
Brynja nodded, "Yes. At least for a little while. She decided she couldn't handle the possibility of losing work if people found out she loved a woman, so she ended it. I packed my bags and went to Berlin. The persecutions in Germany got worse, though, for people who were different. I knew I had to leave when one of the cabaret girls I knew disappeared- Katja." She turned the page and showed him photographs of military men in the street, people standing at train stations, and on the next page, a picture of a very stern man giving an impassioned speech. "I came home before the war was fully underway, but things got much much worse after I left."
"Why, if she left you, do you keep her picture on the wall?" Loki seemed genuinely curious.
"Because I loved her all the same. We had fun together and the time we had was beautiful."
He put his arm around her shoulder, "Show me more of your life, Bryn."
She leaned into him and smiled, turning the page to reveal photographs of many different people and places from her time in Midgard from 1963 to 1975. The photos were in a mix of black and white and colour, everyone smiling and dressed in wild patterns and styles. She pointed out a few of the people on the different pages. After this came photographs from 1984 to 1997, another long trip. The photographs started off like the previous batch, colourful people all happy together. One by one, people disappeared from the pictures as time progressed, others in the images looking more and more unwell in each photograph.
Brynja pointed to one young woman, "This is Sunflower. If you want to see what this disease does, watch her." Loki watched. Sunflower was always smiling. There were a number of pictures of she and Brynja snuggled close, their faces often touching. The progression of Sunflower's disease all the more apparent next to Brynja's health. The photographs of others showed up less and less as Sunflower looked worse and was more often depicted in her bed. There was a birthday party, cake and all, in bed, friends bearing presents. Brynja's fingers traced the edge of a picture of her in bed beside Sunflower, her arms around thin shoulders. Loki felt her hesitate as she turned the page. The next photographs showed a skeletal, smiling young woman in a hospital bed hooked up to tubes and machines, a gold ring on a chain around her neck exactly like the ring Brynja wore on the chain around her own neck. The facing page had a single picture in the middle. It had been taken at a cemetery from far behind the mourning party. A few people stood back from the fresh grave in their black clothing, Brynja kneeling in front of the grave, a short black veil over her hair.
"There. That's what happened to her. She lost the fight." She stared sadly at the photographs.
Loki pulled her close, "I'm so sorry, Brynja."
"I buried her, Loki. No one else would claim her. I bought her a stone, I paid the preacher, and I told the man at the funeral parlor to cremate her," Brynja cried on Loki's shoulder.
"She had no family?" he asked quietly.
"They disowned her when they found out she was sick."
Loki stroked her hair, hoping it was comforting, "She was so lucky to have found you." He unclasped the chain around her neck and carefully removed the ring.
Brynja calmed a little, her cheek brushing his as she sat up, "I think I was lucky, too. After her death, I went to see the world." As she spoke, he slipped the ring on her hand, "I bought a book of the world's places and saw as much as I could for her. We had planned to do it together, but..." She smiled sadly as he placed his hand over hers, gently stroking the ring, "Back where it belongs. Thank you."
He bowed his head, "I hate to ask this at this moment, but...when this insurrection proves successful and I fall with a stroke of the axe, will you do the same for me? Will you bury me and mourn me as no one else will?"
Brynja nodded and gently kissed his cheek, "Of course, Loki."
"Place me beneath the tree on the hill that I remember from our childhood and read Horatio's last words to the Prince over my grave. That is all I ask for a funeral. I do not wish to be sent out on the boats or burned as is Asgard's custom."
She lifted his chin, "I will do my best to honour what you have asked."
Loki sighed, relieved to have had the conversation, "Thank you."
Brynja smiled, "Now let's think of happier things- perhaps your future is not so bleak."
"Or since it likely is, perhaps we can make what little time we have together the best it has ever been," he answered.
She glanced over at her still sleeping children, "I think, though, our adventures will have to wait until tomorrow- I feel like I'm going to fall over if I don't join them soon."
Loki stood and put his chair back on the other side of the table; she walked him to the door, "I'm so happy to have you back."
She hugged him, "I'm glad I made it. I've missed you- it's good to feel at home again."
He nuzzled her cheek, "Home?"
Brynja nodded, "Is where one's heart lies- I have my children, I have you."
Loki sighed, "Were you not still bound to Fandral I would ask to once again take refuge in your arms tonight."
She stepped back and squeezed his hands, "I know. Goodnight, Loki- sleep well, for tomorrow we play."