Chapter Thirty
Ever since Iza found out, Eko has been reluctant to leave her side – rightly understanding how shaken Iza is by the revelation. Even knowing that her mother was not mortal had not prepared her for learning who exactly her mother is. Even after Loki called her Halfling and she began entertaining the thought that maybe some minor entity had carried her for nine months had not prepared her for the truth.
Iza's mother was not a minor entity at all. If the Chieftain is to be believed – and with Loki's confirmation she has no reason to doubt him – then her mother had truly been Skuld.
Skuld, one of the three main Norns sitting at the base of Yggdrasil and weaving the strands of destiny. Skuld, the Norn who anticipated the future and who acted as messenger. Skuld, who was a Valkyrie guiding Viking souls to Valhalla, who had battled prowess, who was not a minor entity easily forgotten or dismissed at all.
It seems all too obvious now why Iza would be called Changemaker. After all, as Skuldsdottir, Iza would be a catalyst to change the future. She had been born by a Norn of the future for that express purpose.
She does not know how to feel about it. And she does not think her father knows how to feel about it, either, which has made their interactions somewhat…tense. Since their conversation in the Great Hall, Iza and the Chieftain have not exchanged more than a handful of words. It is not as if they were particularly communicative before, but the change is still jarring. Awkward.
The fact that Iza saved a Saxon and took him as a slave is also a source of tension. Although the Chieftain had saved Wilhelm when he was only a little older than Iza, the fact that Iza has followed the same family tradition seems to perturb her father. She does not know whether it is because she is female and saved a male slave, or if it is because Carlisle is Saxon, or because Carlisle is already flourishing in their community – but for whatever reason, the Chieftain only grouches and grumbles when Carlisle is near.
Ever mindful of the dragons and her ultimate mission, Iza tries to find a solution for this issue. The best she can come up with is simply moving Carlisle somewhere else – out of sight, out of mind hopefully. She does consider officially freeing Carlisle, but while the Saxon is clearly comfortable in the Viking village and the Viking way of life, some instinct has her hesitating. It is not the right time. Too much turbulence. If she freed Carlisle now and the alliance with the dragons went south, then there would be nothing to shield him from retribution. At least now Carlisle has the inherent protection of being owned by the Chieftain's daughter – and while the Chieftain still gives her favor, she should take advantage of it to protect her friend and his future. Even if they do not like her and do not accept her, the people of Forks would still respect the tradition that is upheld by the Chieftain, and Iza is practical enough to use what she can.
The question of where to move Carlisle is another matter entirely. She needs to place him somewhere that is safe but where his freedom to do as he pleases will not be limited. She has half a mind to tuck him into the cave where she hatched Eko, but dismisses the thought as soon as it comes. Carlisle, she does not think, will be able to live in a cave, not even to make do temporarily.
The answer does not come until she mentions it offhand to Edvard while he and the others are visiting the dragons several days later.
"He can stay with me," Edvard says. "I have only just finished building my own home and there is room."
Hearing that Edvard had somehow made the time to build his own longhouse on some vacant patch of land is less surprising than his offer to take Carlisle in. The shock must be plain on her face, because he offers her a rare slight smile, green eyes warm in amusement.
"Is it so surprising?" he wonders with an arch of his brow.
"No," she says truthfully, because it is not surprising at all. Edvard, she knows, is capable in many ways, even in ways she does not expect – generous in ways she does not expect.
Carlisle follows Edvard home that day, a cloth sack of his belongings on his back and a faint smile on his face. Carlisle had not wanted to leave until Iza explained her reasoning, and then once she had, he had protested more because he was concerned that she was not taking her own safety as seriously as his. Iza stayed firm in her decision, however.
It seems lately that staying firm in her decisions is all she can do. That and help bridge the gaps between dragons and their riders.
Following the return of the Chieftain and the departure of Carlisle, it seems only natural that the area for keeping the dragons also shifts to Edvard's patch of land. With the village Chief now occupying the space – and with his leeriness over the dragons still lingering even after meeting them – it is inevitable that the temporary shelter for the dragons moves. Over the course of several days, with tents and people and weapons and dragons all migrating over to Edvard's longhouse, Iza finds herself naturally shadowing the movement. Even her collection of books and paper and ink find a home on a table just outside the longhouse door.
Edvard does not seem to mind. He is not burdened by living with Carlisle. He is not bothered by the dragon tents in his yard or the dragons sleeping in them. He does not mind the continued presence of four dragon riders or Iza, who oversees the mounting of the dragons. If anything, he accepts the intrusion into his personal space as something that happens by rote. He merely goes about his own routines, sharpening his sword and his skills, hunting and patrolling the woods, and generally being as stoic and quiet and watchful as ever.
And so, more and more, Iza spends less time at the longhouse on the highest hill – instead, she occupies herself with preparing for a predicted battle alongside unpredicted allies.
The long days of summer continue to stretch over them, hot and humid and the air rich with the sweet scent of blooming fields. With the village full once more, there feels like there is more time to dedicate to other pursuits now that more helping hands make work pass more quickly. The exception, of course, is their insular group as there does not seem to be enough time in the world to make each dragon and rider comfortable flying in tandem.
Flying together is the point of the alliance. Two heads do work better than one, after all, and the addition of a human rider means twice the ability to attack. The problem, however, is getting both dragon and rider on the same page.
Iza takes the time again and again to demonstrate with Eko. She straddles Eko's back right above her wings, hands braced on the base of Eko's neck as her dragon rises through the air, banking against the wind currents in the sky, leaning and bending with each of Eko's movements. She uses Loki's bow, showing how easily long-range weapons work at the right height and distance. The more demonstrations she makes, the more natural it feels to be in the air, the swooping in her stomach and the fine tremble in her hands vanishing as her comfort increases.
And yet, it seems her demonstrations are not effective. Perhaps this is because the others do not have the benefit of a mental bond, or perhaps it is because of clashing temperaments and personalities, but not any two pairs can ride in the air well at the same time – even without the addition of weapons.
Jaspar and Leiptr, while well-matched in temperament, have vastly different speeds. Leiptr's flying is as quick as the lightning in her veins. Jaspar, on the other hand, is used to the chopping speeds of boats on the water and after a certain point pales at the speed that Leiptr can reach.
Dyngju and Emebor have a different problem, mostly in the fact that Dygnju does not allow Emebor on his back half the time. The issue seems to be with the way Emebor's weight prevents the full expansion of Dyngju's wingspan, thus hampering Dyngju's ability to fly at all. While Dyngju is one of the larger dragons in their outfit, Emebor is also the largest rider.
Steinn and Jakob seem to have a similar issue in that the sharp array of closely-gathered spikes that line the Steinn's spine prevent Jakob from sitting at all. The stone-like dragon seems to want Jakob to ride, but the fact of the matter is that Jakob cannot without injuring himself. Jakob, however, seems to treat this as a fun challenge and Iza does not worry about his ability to find a solution – even if she does worry that her young cousin is placing himself in too much risk. Jakob cannot be talked about of this commitment.
Kaldr and Róża have such conflicting personalities that their constant power struggle means flying any higher than five or so feet is not safe for Róża, as Kaldr has a habit of bucking his rider off when he feels irked. Róża has more than one bruise from landing on ground only just softened by matured grass. The issue between these two seems mostly about trust, or perhaps communication.
Iza observes all of this and she silently despairs. How is she to fix any of this? Time, she knows, is the only solution to any of these problems – but she does not know how much time they have. It could be hours or days or weeks until the next dragon attack, and none of them are ready.
And so day after day, she returns to Edvard's longhouse and helps where she can and ends up staying later and later, only returning home when the moon is high in the sky. At the very least, her days are not full of frustration. Often times while the others are working on flying, Iza will find herself flipping through pages at the table by the door, looking through the Eddas she has made to try and find some information – any information – about her mother.
But for all that Skuld is a legendary and well-known Norn, the stories about her that Iza has painstakingly gathered into the Eddas is rather scant. The Eddas, the legends of the Gods that Iza has fashioned into a collection, have much more to say about the deities under Odin's reign. The Norns as a whole are only talked about as an aside, with not much known about them. Tales about Skuld are no different.
She gives up on that search after several days and, quite without intending to, begins to compile a different sort of information. A new kind of Edda, made not from tales and legends, but from verified information. She writes it in her own hand, the runes smooth and descriptive. Careful to keep this Edda as private as possible, she writes what she knows of the Halflings in the village – herself and Edvard, and what each of them have gained from their divine parentage. She also records Eko's hatching and the things that Dagmar had told her that night on the mountain. During this time, Iza finally finds a name for the Malice Striker – Nidhogg.
After she writes the name down, she pauses and frowns at the page. Nidhogg. An apt name, but something about it strikes her strangely, as if she has seen it before. She has not, she knows, but she has well learned that she should not disregard any of these odd instincts and insights she sometimes has.
What is it about Nidhogg that feels fuzzily familiar? She does not know. It is another question to be unraveled.
This is how the last days of summer pass – with baited breath and confusion and frustration and hard-won progress. It is only near the end of summer and after several weeks that the dragons and their riders can all be in the sky at once. Jaspar adapted to Leiptr's speed, Emebor learned to sit behind Dyngju's wings, Jakob found a way to balance his weight on his knees to avoid Steinn's spikes, and Kaldr and Róża seemed to have reached some sort of agreement based entirely on non-verbal cues that feel mildly hostile.
Seeing them all in the air together, easily flying in various formations high into the clouds, Iza feels some relief. The hard part, she thinks, is over.
Next is finding weapons that the riders can carry and easily use. It is very much not the Viking way, but the use of longswords while on the back of a dragon is ineffective. The range is not long enough and the risk of losing the sword is too high. Exploring other options takes time and is again something Iza can only help with from the sidelines.
But here is where Edvard's striking prowess as a warrior makes itself known. He is particularly skilled with most weapons, many of which have a long enough range to be used. He takes the time to personally train Jakob, giving input to the others with a level of patience Iza finds admirable. He even makes a point of correcting Iza's posture so that her archery is more accurate than before, bending over her back to straighten her shoulder and lower her elbow and correct the placement of her fingers on the bowstring, all while Iza's heart racing in her chest. She thinks that Edvard notices, the corner of his lip quirking upward as he moves away to help another.
It is among a thousand other little touches that make Iza dizzy. She loses count of which ones make the flush on her face last the longest – but she knows that each are innocuous, especially compared to the overt nature of Róża and Emebor's affections.
Eko seems vaguely confused by how easily flustered Iza is, insisting that if she would just mate Edvard she would be much more calm. It is mortifying that her dragon is braver than she is. But she feels like she needs to be certain about Edvard's interest before she can act on her own, and between all the demands on her time and attention, she cannot find that certainty.
Other things are more important, she reminds herself, and it is true enough.
Rather, it feels true enough until one late night near the end of summer. With a long day of training with Eko and the others, Iza had spent the darkening hours after the evening meal trying to recall more of what Dagmar had said of Nidhogg, dutifully recording the words as clearly as possible into the Edda. Around her, the others depart while Carlisle helps Edvard clear the yard once more, Eko chittering with the dragons.
She must fall asleep at some point, because she wakes with her chin cradled in her hand and Edvard crouched by her side, his brows furrowed in obvious concern. "You are tired," he tells her softly, and there is a soft touch to her shoulder, a large palm curling warmly over the thin fabric of her tunic. "Should I walk you home? Or would you rather allow Eko to take you?"
Iza blinks up at him sleepily, her mind mussed and clouded. She stares up at Edvard's face and feels a sense of calm, a sense of contentment, and a bit of nostalgia. She has stared up at this face before in the low light, hidden in the hollow of a tree while a white snow storm blitzed around them. She has stared up at this face before, time and again, with the expression firm, resolute, determined – but also kind and burdened and amused and conflicted and warm with fondness. She has stared up at this face before and felt safe.
So perhaps that is why she leans up, closing the distance between them as if she has done so a hundred times before. Their lips slide together, smooth and supple as her breath catches in her lungs and as he releases a low gasp – and then the kiss deepens, grows into something more. A declaration. A claim. A promise. Hands close around her waist, pulling her closer to a broad chest, and her fingers curl into untamed coppery hair.
As her first kiss is claimed again and again, Iza wonders how foolish she could ever be to wait patiently for this moment to come. With her skin shivering and her nerves alight, she thinks that this is one thing that must be taken at the first opportunity.
And Edvard seems to agree.
A/N: Yeah, you bet he agrees! Who would have thought Iza would be the one to make the first official move? I don't know about anyone else, but I am most honest in like the first 2 minutes I'm awake than any other part of the day - that's why you should wake me up nicely.
As always, be brutally honest. I can take it.
~Rae