Things were not alright.
"I still can't believe this is our plan," Bridget whispered fiercely.
Leiknleif couldn't help but silently agree.
"I told you you three could wait behind," she whispered back, and Bridget snorted.
"Right, and let you walk in to conspire with our enemies, none the wiser."
Leiknleif gritted her teeth to keep from answering. She'd wanted to leave the Heruli behind because her plan required stealth. Alone, she could easily have reached her goal unnoticed. Four people, though…
She was hardly surprised when a shout sounded from behind a hill, and a jötun scouting party surrounded them.
"Don't," she said sharply, throwing an arm to the side as she felt her companions twitch behind her.
Martin and Hágoð obeyed, releasing the hilts of their weapons and slowly lowering their hands to their sides. Bridget, however, drew her sword and fell into a ready stance.
"You led us into a trap," she accused.
"Now, why would you do that?" a male jötun asked, stepping forward. He wore a mantle of confidence, obviously the leader of the scouting party.
"I didn't," Leiknleif said.
She'd chosen a form that blended in with the snow of jötunheim, an effort of camouflage, but now that they'd been caught, she morphed back into her true form, raising her golden eyes to meet the jötun leader's ice-blue pair.
"I only came to speak with Gróa," she said.
"Liar!" a familiar voice rang out, and a female jötun stepped around her comrades to press the point of her sword against Leiknleif's throat. "Traitor! She killed Jofurr!"
"Hvítla," Leiknleif said, closing her eyes to keep her composure.
At the same time, Hágoð yelled, "Wait!" and Leiknleif heard the snow crunch as he took a step in her direction.
"Stop," she said firmly, her eyes flying open. He was still behind her, but she thankfully heard silence.
Hvítla's eyes flicked between them for a moment before settling on Leiknleif. The girl saw hatred in the woman's eyes, but understanding as well, and a dull pall of grief. With a deep breath, she knew how to approach the situation.
"To be a traitor implies loyalty. You always knew I stood apart…between the tribes."
"You fought to protect yours," the jötun admitted before her eyes hardened, "As I must fight to protect mine."
"I owe you weregild," Leiknleif said. "I should have settled it earlier."
Hvítla frowned, but her muscles seemed to relax.
"He was worth more than gold."
"Choose your price."
Hvítla hesitated, thinking. When she spoke, her voice was resolute, and there was a challenge in her eyes.
"Prove yourself. In every way. Bring me a fire gem from the Horn of Muspelheim."
"I will," she said.
Hvítla nodded slowly, letting her sword drop down by her side. Throwing another glance over Leiknleif's shoulder at Hágoð, she said cryptically, "That's a well-made shield." Then, she faded back into her scouting party's ranks.
Hágoð flashed Elda a confused look, and she slightly shook her head. Later.
The advantage of being caught, Leiknleif reflected, was the jötnar's support when she insisted on seeing Gróa alone. Martin and Hágoð shifted uncomfortably, but she was sure they would have let her go, anyway. Bridget was another story. She'd complained when her sword had been taken, though the young men had been allowed to keep theirs, and Leiknleif had had to hide a smile when the scouts' captain had explained that they'd proven themselves trustworthy, while she had not. The girl had been oddly quiet after that, and Leiknleif almost dared to hope that it was thoughtfulness, not sullenness, that stilled her tongue. Still, best not to get her hopes up. The Heruli were not known for their flexibility.
When Leiknleif walked into Gróa's cottage, her muscles instantly relaxed at the incensed smoke that swirled around inside.
"Ah," the old woman said with a warm smile, "I was wondering when you'd come to see me, child."
"I thought you said the future was ours to make," she teased.
"Not when you owe an old friend a visit. What kept you so long?"
"I wasn't sure I'd be welcome," Leiknleif admitted, shifting awkwardly.
"Come, sit."
The old woman's voice was soft with understanding, and Leiknleif obeyed.
"There's another reason," Gróa said, and her sharp grey eyes seemed to peer into the girl's soul. "You fear the future."
Leiknleif flinched.
"Sometimes," she admitted slowly, "I fear choice almost more than fate."
Gróa laughed, then.
"Of course you do, girl! Why do you think the Heruli cling to their prophecies so? Freedom frightens us all."
Leiknleif nodded, her stomach flip-flopping inside of her. She hadn't wanted to be told her fears were justified. She'd wanted them taken away. But, somehow, knowing they were shared at least told her there was a way to live with the fear.
"Is it really possible?" she asked Gróa. "What we plan? Could we stop it if we tried?"
"That, my darling, is the great secret the Æsir seek so hard to hide. Anything is possible."
Leiknleif frowned. It wasn't an answer. She had hoped for an assurance of some kind, and instead she'd learned only that she'd never know…Unless she tried.
"Have you spoken to your father, child?"
Leiknleif's mouth went dry, and she silently shook her head, unwilling to meet Gróa's eyes.
"What are you so afraid of?" the wise woman asked.
Leiknleif looked back up at her, her golden eyes wide and pleading as she searched the craggy, old face for some hint of reassurance.
"Why shouldn't he want revenge? After all they've done. I don't want to do this and then find out…I shouldn't have. But, I'm even more afraid of knowing from the start-"
She broke off, unable to hold back tears, and Gróa held her until she stilled. When Leiknleif had cried her fill, the wise woman looked into her eyes and spoke, softly but firmly.
"It isn't the future you must know, child. It is yourself. With this knowledge, you cannot fail. Without it, you cannot succeed."
Leiknleif bowed her head.
"Thank you, Wise One."
When Leiknleif returned to the Heruli trio, she braced herself for a fight over their next destination.
"I know I agreed to go to the Heruli next, but I won't break my word to Hvítla. And, let's be honest. The next time I go to Volsungaheim, I might not be able to go anywhere else ever again."
She couldn't help the hint of accusation burning in her gaze when she looked at Bridget, but the other girl said simply, "Weregild…It's important."
"We agreed to go return to the Heruli after we'd reached an accord with a tribe concerning our plan," Hágoð said.
Leiknleif nodded. Suspecting where his thoughts were leading, she said, "And we can't convince the jötun chief until we've proven our good intentions. I need to make things right with Hvítla before our business in jötunheim can end."
"So, the way I see it," Hágoð said, "Muspelheim isn't a new destination. It's just a detour."
Martin snorted at the convoluted argument but didn't object.
Hágoð and Leiknleif turned their eyes to Bridget, who said waspishly, "I've been overruled by the lot of you enough times now to know I'm not going to change your minds."
Her words seemed to bite less than usual. But perhaps that was only Leiknleif's imagination.
Leiknleif waited until they'd all hunkered down for the night. Then, she tentatively reached out with her fylgja. Outside her body, she couldn't feel her heartbeat, but her whole soul seemed to pulse in anxiety as her wings thrummed, bringing her ever closer to the dreaded conversation.
She landed in her natural shape in the cave and tried not to look at the bowl in Sigyn's hands. She didn't want to know how full it was. She grimaced as she looked between Sigyn and Loki, unsure how to start the conversation. She doubted they were completely unaware of her recent activities.
In the end, Loki's voice broke the silence first, and it was as sharp and mocking as she'd feared.
"Well, well. Look who finally remembered us."
Leiknleif wanted to complain that wasn't fair, but her father's life had never been fair. Compared to him, she had no right to that defense.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"No matter," he said breezily. "How is your Heruli pet?"
That rankled a bit.
"Better than I thought," Leiknleif said defensively. Hágoð had broken her trust, yes, but he'd earned it back.
"Is he?"
The question was sickly with amusement, and Leiknleif pushed away the doubt it suggested.
"He is," she said lamely.
She glanced at Sigyn, but the ásynja remained silent, averting her eyes. There would be no help from that corner, which worried her. Sigyn was usually softer than her father.
"You know, he prayed to me sometimes, while you were apart. Asking for your safety, for your happiness. Empty words. He never did anything about it, never went to look for you himself."
Leiknleif set her face in stone. She understood the point her father was making. But, that didn't stop her from wondering why he'd never mentioned this until now. As far as she was concerned, he came out as badly as Hágoð.
"He's here now," she insisted. "That's what matters."
"It matters enough to turn you against your own family? 'Brother against brother,' isn't that how the prophecy goes? Of course, maybe you've made the Æsir and their children your kin, as I once did. Come, do you really think you can stop their endless battles for conquest? Even if you could, tell me, is defending them really worth it?"
Finally, Leiknleif snapped.
"Oh, for the World Tree's sake, it isn't about them! You know what? You deserve your vengeance! If it were anything else, I'd be helping you with it! And, I know, the fighting will never stop completely. I'm not that naïve. But, falling apart, all turning on each other while Nidhogg devours Yggdrasil's roots, and letting draugar roam unchecked? We can be better than that, at least. I won't let it happen. I won't."
Her fylgja was trembling with strain. If she were in her body, she knew, every muscle would be tense as she panted. But, she stood tall and met her father's eyes with fire in her own. And he was smiling.
"Oh," Leiknleif said as tension leaked out of her.
Of course, he'd nettled her on purpose, testing her resolve until she rose to the bait. Until she knew what she was willing to fight for, no matter who disapproved.
"It looks like your mind's made up," Loki said, and Leiknleif could hear a hint of pride in his voice, lurking just under a smug overtone.
She approached where her father lay bound and settled down beside him, snuggling into his chest. His muscles were hard and stiff, his limbs drawn taut by the chains forged from his son's entrails, but his proximity was still comforting. He sighed, and Leiknleif read the fleeting contentment her presence brought as well as the hard edge of frustrated yearning.
"What will you do?" she asked quietly.
"Not start their Ragnarokkr," Loki said derisively. "I want to live, and destroying the worlds, the way they imagine, wouldn't make that likely."
"The centuries have taught us hatred," Sigyn said, and hearing that from the mild-mannered woman drenched Leiknleif in a cold sort of terror. "But, they've also taught us patience."
"My revenge will be on my own terms," Loki concluded. "Not theirs."
It was the best Leiknleif could have hoped for.