Chapter Twenty Nine
Dragons finding the right riders is as easy as an instant of connection. Given how fast she bonded with Eko, she should have known. It is at least one less thing to worry about, because as it turn out other things are less easy.
When Iza wakes one morning several days later and sees the black dots bobbing in the ocean on the horizon, her stomach sinks with the realization that the coming day is not going to be easy in the slightest - because Vikings on the horizon can only mean two things.
Either Vikings are visiting for trade, or the Vikings of Forks have returned.
Iza does not need to wait for the Vikings to disembark from the boats to know which one it is. She recognizes the peculiar curving carve of the longboats and the voice shouting directions over the chopping waves of the fjords.
A stone in her stomach and Iza knows. The Chieftain is back – her father has finally returned, and with him, his immobile opinions.
Iza looks at Eko, who stands at her side at the top of the hill, watching as the Vikings maneuver the boats closer to dock with her frills standing tall, and feels iron lance up her spine, straightening her shoulders. Determination swells between them, rich in their bond as their dual-toned eyes lock together.
Iza will make the Vikings understand, and Eko will not let her fall or fail.
"Carlisle," Iza calls as she struts back into the longhouse. Iza disappears into her corner of the room, swiftly dragging a leather vest over her tunic dress and strapping her feet into her boots. She combs her fingers through her hair, fixes a loose braid, and emerges with bright eyes on a serious face. By the time she is ready, Carlisle is standing near the door with a perplexed expression. She fixes him with a strong stare and says, "The raiders are back. We are going to greet them."
Comprehension dawns on the Saxon's face, along with a hint of nerves. She cannot blame him; the last time Carlisle had been near any raiders, he'd been chained and starving. Even so, Carlisle offers a nod and hurries to fix his own appearance, fully prepared to follow Iza into the village.
"Eko," she says, and without any further explanation, Eko chitters at the other dragons until they are all standing and ready to leave.
Briefly – only for a moment – Iza considers leaving the dragons in the forest, imagining exactly how well an image of her trailed by five large dragons is going to go with her father. But she pushes the apprehension away, grits her teeth with her resolve, and stubbornly thinks, Let him be alarmed. I have nothing to hide. This is the right path.
And truly, the path she forges is the only path.
Walking into the village with five dragons and a Saxon at her back means that the villagers give her a wide berth. While she appreciates the space on behalf of the dragons, she also knows that there is nothing to hide the sight – even temporarily – from the Vikings that are booting down on the docks. And surely enough, one by one, they all turn to gape at Iza as she comes to a stop at the edge of the docks.
She waits, her chin tilted high, arms down at her sides.
The Chieftain turns, perhaps prompted by the sudden hush of the crowd, and his dark eyes widen in muted surprise. To his credit, her father is a smart man and seems to quickly grasp that the situation is Iza's doing. Behind his dark beard, his lips thin out and he fixes Iza with something akin to a glare. "What have you done?"
"I have saved us," Iza states boldly, feeling that truth settle deeply between her ribs.
And it is perhaps only by the grace of the Gods themselves – or maybe the stony conviction lancing her voice – that keeps Chalisław from reacting in outright anger. He breathes in deeply through his nose, takes a brief assessment of the villagers watching the scene with baited breath, and then exhales sharply. "Let us speak elsewhere," he says lowly, already walking with a proud stride past Iza and the dragons.
Iza does as she is bid and follows her father into the Great Hall, which is empty so early in the morning. Iza makes a point of guiding the dragons and Carlisle in with her before she turns and closes the door with a decisive thump.
When she turns around, her father is roughly scrubbing his hands over his face and staring at her with a banked fire in his gaze. Iza is somewhat surprised by this, as she knows her father to be a level-headed man who chooses his words wisely. To see him in any capacity of anger is always somewhat shocking. To see that irritation directed at her is intimidating, but she does not fold.
"Things have changed while you have been away," Iza tells him needlessly.
"Dragons," he returns curtly. "And a Saxon. Yours, I assume."
"Yes."
"Why? What could have possibly made you do this? Iza, you are sensible and this is –"
"This is destiny," Iza asserts firmly. "Father. You have been gone for several months, much longer than normal, and the village still remains standing even despite what I have done. Does that not say something about my actions?"
The Chieftain grunts. He looks at each of the dragons in turn, taking note of how calm they are, and then looks at Carlisle with a skeptical tilt of his brow. Eventually, he heaves out a deep sigh, pinches his nose, and finds a seat at one of the tables in the Hall. "Explain everything."
And so, Iza does.
And through it all, the Chieftain remains a stern countenance – not one of disbelief, not one of anger, not one of awe – but an expression of stony, resolute attention. Not once does his expression waver. Not once does his flinch or glare or dismiss. In fact, the only time he shows any type of reaction – a sudden wan paleness to his cheeks beneath his beard – is when Iza glosses over Dagmar calling her Changemaker, a detail she cannot afford to leave out with her father because of its relevancy.
But she does make a note of it, wondering in the back of her mind why he had reacted to Changemaker over anything else. It is, she thinks, a bit telling. Or damning.
At the end of it, when Iza is detailing that the dragons behind her have all found humans they are willing to allow as riders, the Chieftain finally closes his eyes. He pulls at his beard, the expression on his face one she imagines she makes often – a certain thoughtfulness as ideas are churned over and over. Iza waits patiently. The dragons wait, too, seeming to take their cues from Eko, who takes her cues from Iza that silence and stillness are the best things for the moment.
"I will allow it," her father rumbles after a long, long moment. His eyes open and he speaks in a tone as frank as his stare. "Even as I say this, though, I know that I am not in a position to allow you anything. This, what you have done, is too far progressed to be stopped. And with the Elders not in strong opposition and the village willing to try, I can only support this…innovative solution you have found. That you have managed to do this at all…"
Iza furrows her brows, uncertain of what the expression on her father's face means. She doesn't have to wait long, because the Chieftain continues.
"I am proud of you, my daughter," he says fondly.
Iza's heart jumps between her ribs. Would he still be proud, she wonders, if she told him about the other things she has learned – about being struck with Thor's hammer and speaking with Loki and learning that she is only half-human? Would be be proud, then? Perhaps it is a boldness born out of a confidence that her father has pride in her that loosens her tongue, but quite without her thinking about it, Iza blurts out a question.
"Do you think my mother would be proud, too?"
Predictably, as it always does when her missing mother is mentioned, the Chieftain's expression shutters. And Iza, who has spent an entire life missing a woman she has never met and who is so close to finally discovering who brought her into the world, releases a fissure of frustration that is constantly banked in the back of her mind.
"Who was she?" Iza demands. "Who was my mother? Where did she go? Why won't you ever speak about her?"
"Izabela!"
"I deserve to know! I need to know! I am – that is – this is not something that should be kept from me! Who she was and why she left are part of who I am – and who I am is something that even an ancient dragon recognizes as other. So, who was she, Father?"
Maybe the Chieftain is moved by her passion or maybe he is simply tired, but either way the fight seems to drain from him, leaving his eyes weighted with an old fatigue. "Your mother was not like other women," he says quietly. "She was outspoken, much like you are, and cunning, again like you. She always seemed to know exactly what she should do and never faltered. She was beautiful and her mind was preoccupied with the future, always curious about what would happen next…The only time it seemed like she was in the present and fully with me was when she was pregnant with you…"
"Father…"
"Perhaps I should have known," he muses, a muted pain on his face. "Perhaps I should have realized that she is like the wind – I certainly knew that she was restless, I just thought she was excited for our family...I thought we would be enough to keep her here. But then you were born and she did not even wait to wean you before she disappeared…"
Something about the way he speaks, about the words he uses, makes thoughts swirl and blend together in her mind. Not like other women. Preoccupied with the future. The only time she was in the present. Enough to keep her here.
"…What was her name?" Iza asks, a quiver between her lungs.
Her father stares at her, dark eyes seeing her but also looking straight through her. She wonders what – or who – he sees. She wonders about a lot of things, but mostly at his silence and the way he seems to be holding himself back.
"What was her name?" she asks again.
The Chieftain breathes out slowly and when he speaks it is with a quiet sort of reverence reserved only for the Gods themselves. She does not understand the tone until his speech fully registers in her mind. And then at that, she can only join her father at the table and sit with him in silence as all the errant pieces of her life fall into place.
"She called herself Skuld," the Chiftain had revealed.
She called herself Skuld.
Oh.
Iza is Skuldsdottir.
A/N: Whoop there it is! The big reveal for why this story is called dottir. I mean, we've known Iza is a Halfling and knew her mother wasn't mortal, so obviously her Godly parent was what made her a dottir just like Edvard's Godly parent is what makes him a son. But now we know who! Which brings me to...
Norse things in this chapter! Alright! Who is Skuld? In Norse mythology, Skuld of one of three Norns who are responsible for the destiny of basically the whole universe. Skuld was the Norn responsible for future events and its thought that the English word should is derived from her name. Skuld was also a Valkyrie and known for her ferocity in battle. She was pretty much a badass and like other Norns was considered a separate entity from the other Norse Gods - she and the other Norns are the few figures in mythology who could tell Odin to choke on one of his ravens without any consequences. And like other Norse figures, the Norns were known to walk among the people, sometimes even to influence events to their liking.
As always, be brutally honest. I can take it.
~Rae