A/N: Chap 22 review responses are in my forums. This chapter does provide some clarity to the last chapter, but possibly not in a good way. Telos did not change fate, at least not yet. She simply delayed it.


Chapter Twenty-Three: Freyasdottir

When Taylor came down on the morning of her fourth month to make the daily bread, she found Buri draped in much finer clothing than she was accustomed to. He sat at the table next to a huge wooden barrel. She herself wore her latest set of culottes in green-dyed wool, but chose to wear her cleaned breastplate in anticipation of their sparring.

"I have fed and stored the animals," he said. "Today, we travel."

"Do I need to gather anything?"

"No. Come."

She walked to his side as he easily lifted the barrel over one shoulder, and together they left the tower. She felt a massive surge of dark energy a second before a portal opened in front of them. Buri did not pause his steps, and so neither did Taylor.

She immediately felt the change in elevation as the air pressure increased. Through the portal, she found herself standing on a shimmering, quartz-like bridge that stretched out impossibly toward the city behind them, but a great observatory ahead.

"Himinbjorg," she whispered. "We travel the bifrost? It's repaired?"

Just like her father, Buri did not feel the need to answer obvious questions. She followed as he strode toward the golden dome that looked out over the cosmos. Within, a single being stood in age-long duty, watching everything with the same enchantment to his eyes that Taylor had with her bifrost eyes.

The pedestal that dominated the center of the room sat directly below a holographic depiction of Yggdrasil itself. The guardian pulled a massive broadsword from a dedicated receptacle and slung it through a scabbard behind his back.

Without a word; without even looking, he stepped away from the platform. Taylor didn't quite understand the interplay there, but it had the air of ritual. As if Heimdall, the guardian of the bifrost, made a show of not seeing Buri, grandfather to Odin and creator of Asgard itself.

Buri led her to the edge of the domed room and the open portal that stood at the very edge of the atmospheric envelope of Asgard. He raised one broad fist, and the surge of dark energy Taylor felt almost sent her to her knees. The power did not originate from Buri, though. Nor was it dimensional energy. Instead, it came from the rainbow bridge she just left, pouring like current from a powerful battery that Buri shaped with his bare hand and enormous will.

The open window onto the cosmos exploded into a tunnel of light. Taylor could see streaks of dark matter in the flickering wall, which made the energy that pierced space and time even bright in comparison. "Come," the ancient god said.

He stepped into the light with the barrel over one shoulder, and with a tight grin, Taylor followed.

For three seconds of eternity, every one of her senses was overwhelmed by the surging tides of cosmic energy that carried her in its current. But just as abruptly as it began, it ended. She stumbled, using her wings to brace herself. Thus she was looking down when the metal floor she stood on vibrated with a massive step.

She looked up quickly to see a strangely shaped yet massive figure standing before her. At least twice the height of Buri himself, but shaped like a dwarf, the being wore a heavy leather apron scored with runic brands of a language she could not recognize. Atop his broad, heavily bearded and overlard head lay a crown of black metal that had that same dissonance about it as the dark matter of the universe.

"Tiwaz, my friend!" The giant dwarf's voice boomed across what looked like a vast manufacturing plant. He knelt down on one stubby leg that was still thicker than Taylor's whole body, and offered a huge hand which Buri took.

"Durinn, old friend," Buri said. "It is good to see you. I bring you a gift."

He placed the barrel on the floor before the massive being. "Asgardian meade, from the finest honey. I crafted this by hand, and blessed the bees with the sweetest nectar. A worthy gift for Durinn, son of Módsognir."

"A worthy gift indeed," Durinn said in that booming voice. His eyes shifted to Taylor, and for a long moment they widened in surprise as he took in her wings. "You haven't been tupping those winged horses of yours, have you?"

Taylor snorted, so shocked by the comment she didn't have a chance to be outraged. Buri just laughed. "Durinn, this is Telos of America. In another existence, she was daughter to Freya of Asgard and the Olympian God of War."

"Freya? Olympian? I find you tupping a winged horse more likely, my friend. She is but a child-I see less than two decades about her shoulders."

The metal grating shook as a second pair of massive feet approached. "Durinn, you foul-mouthed wretch! Look at that child! No winged horse bore such a one as her. Watch your foul mouth!"

The newcomer was only slightly shorter than Durinn, but with just as impressive a beard as his. Unlike his, this newcomer's beard hung low on the neck, leaving the area around his mouth bare. Buri bowed to the newcomer. "Dvalinn! Nidavillir is made brighter for your beauty."

Oh. That's...ok. The bearded, female dwarf bent over and regarded Taylor with massive, earthen-toned eyes. "What an exquisite creature you are," Dvalinn said. Her breath smelled like sulfur and over-cooked pork. "If those wings were not attached, I would say they were a product of dwarven artifice."

"I...thank you?"

The dwarf continued to stare at her intently before looking to Buri. "This one is no Asgardian. Her quantum signature speaks of another realm of existence of entirely. Not just dimensional, but universal differences. How can she even be here without reality breaking?"

"Her tale is for her to tell. Know only that I have taken her as a pupil."

Dvalinn straightened, turning her gaze from Taylor to Buri. Beside her, Durinn merely regarded Buri.

"I understand your gift all the better," the taller dwarf finally said. "Very well, friend of Nivadillir, so you ask, so shall you receive. An axe? A sword? A shield?"

"Perhaps rings of power," Dvallin suggested.

"A brassier of blazing light?"

Dvallin struck the taller dwarf lightly in the head. "Why would she want her bosoms ablaze, fool? Nay, this one needs an enchanted ring to fool the senses of mortals." She walked around Taylor, examining her like an expert seamstress. "Armor to fit about the wings, crafted of the finest Uru and most powerful enchantments."

"She claims an Olympian as a father," Durinn said. "They went to war with their balls swinging in the wind. So only a top?"

Dvalinn's sigh caused a breeze that blew at Taylor's hair. "We will not send this child into battle naked at the waist! Nay, we'll craft a skirt of pteruges over steel and wool. Past her knees, to be sure. Grieves to catch the light of the sun and blind the enemy, and vambraces worthy of her teacher."

"What about weapons, though? A war axe? A sword?"

"She shall have a staff," Buri declared to Taylor's surprise. "And a blade forged by your brethren's hands, Misteltein. From you, the only weapon I would seek for this child is a bow, to replace the one she lost saving her world."

All this was news to Taylor. "I'm getting a staff and sword?"

"When I have faith you will not brain yourself or cut off your foot, yes," Buri said without missing a beat. "But I have seen your hands, and seen the calluses of an archer. If your Freya was anything like my Frigga, you will know how to use it."

"My mother's bow was enchanted with dragon's fire, and an endless quiver," Taylor said.

"That sounds marvelous!" Dvalinn declared in her cavernous voice. "I'll spin the Uru with moonlight to make it pliable, and weave a string of darkness to harness arrows enchanted to always find their target and never shatter! Even better, they shall always return to the quiver. Perhaps not an infinite quiver, but one to last for many centuries!"

"Enchanted bobkins!" Durinn shouted.

The two dwarves started walking away, talking loudly in their booming voices as they bounced ideas of each other. Blinking, Taylor saw the meade was gone. "Are they...husband and wife? Brother-sister?"

"Yes," Buri said, not specifying. "We are done. Come, we have chores to do."

~~Titanomachy~~

~~Titanomachy~~

When Taylor woke on the day she was to receive her dwarven gifts, the air tasted of acrid, bitter smoke. She made her way downstairs and saw the door to the tower open. She stepped out into the courtyard and found Buri standing with his arms crossed and his expression clouded.

She could not find any dark clouds over the city, but she could hear, just barely audible on the wind, the sound of mournful bells. "What happened?" she asked.

Buri stood silent for the longest time, staring. "All things pass in time," he said, speaking just above a whisper. "All souls return to the primordium from which they sprang. Even gods may die. Fate can only be denied for so long. Njord's children are no more."

It took time for the words to sink in. When they did, Taylor found the strength drained from her legs. She sank down, kneeling, as she bowed her head. The queen who was so kind to her; who bore her mother's face…. The warrior uncle who might have been.

Buri said nothing as he walked back into the tower. Taylor remained kneeling on the ancient stone as, far in the distance, the bells of Asgard rang.

~~Titanomachy~~

~~Titanomachy~~

The next day, after Taylor performed the chores like a zombie, a boat-shaped skiff came down in the yard. She was surprised to see that Byggvir, Freyr's dark-haired son, rode alone in the skiff. He dressed in full armor, with a sword at his waist,

He said nothing as he joined them for a mid-day meal. Sitting beside Buri, Taylor could see the similarities that went beyond just their beards. They had the same shape around their eyes, and similar noses. But Byggvir had the slimness of relative youth-he was a peer to Thor, which would put him at a thousand years.

When they were done eating, Taylor took their bowls without asking. After so long, she understood the ancient role of hostess that fell to her in this instance. In the presence of millennia of experience and life darkened by intense grief, she did not hesitate to fulfill the role.

When she was finished washing, she returned to the table bearing a large pitcher of Buri's mead and three porcelain steins. She poured all three, and Buri did not say anything against her drinking.

Into the silence, Taylor suddenly remembered a passage from the Gylfaginning that she'd memorized after she learned who her mother actually was. She spoke it now, singing the words as a skald might have done a thousand years before.

"Njördr in Nóatún begot afterward two children: the son was called Freyr, and the daughter Freyja; they were fair of face and mighty. Freyr is the most renowned of the Æsir; he rules over the rain and the shining of the sun, and therewithal the fruit of the earth; and it is good to call on him for fruitful seasons and peace. He governs also the prosperity of men. But Freyja is the most renowned of the goddesses; she has in heaven the dwelling called Fólkvangr, and wheresoever she rides to the strife, she has one-half of the kill, and Odin half."

.

The two men turned to face her. "An old poem about my mother, written almost a thousand years before I was born. I learned it after...I lost her in my other world."

"The mortals knew us from our time fighting the Jotuns," Byggvir said. "My father was there, as was my queen, after the fighting. She and others came to heal and aid the mortals who survived the attack. It is just that they honor her. To Frigga, Queen of Asgard. Beloved aunt! To Freyr, Prince of Vanaheim, beloved father!"

The worry that sat with Taylor since she saw who it was now had confirmation, and once more she felt her eyes sting. Both of them? They drank; Taylor fought not to choke as the burning sweetness of the Asgardian mead poured down her throat. Almost immediately, her chest felt warm and her cheeks blazed.

Buri stared down at the table. "I would have the story, Freyrson. Tell me why the children of Njord are no more."

"T'was Loki," Byggvir said darkly. "He used the very magic Freya taught him to lead assassins into the halls of Asgard. Freya and Freyr both stood over Odin in his sleep, and fought to the last to protect her king. They killed half their attackers, who themselves had killed many Einharjar. With their lives, they bought precious time for the Allfather to wake, and it was Odin himself, with mighty Gugnir, who destroyed most of those who survived my father and aunt's wrath."

"The assassins are dead?"

"All but two. One was a teleporter, and it was this one who allowed Loki to escape. Thor returned from Nidavillir with his new weapon, and has been tasked by Odin to hunt down and destroy those who acted against Asgard, and to bring Loki back for justice. There is more, Eldest. I do not understand it all, but on his waking Odin found reason to declare Heimdall a traitor for permitting the intrusion. Perhaps it was grief over the loss of his beloved Frigga, but Heimdall no longer stands guard over the Bifrost."

Buri grunted as he heard these words, himself lost in thought. It took several moments before he spoke. "And what does the Borsson intend to do next?"

Byggvir drew long on his mead. With his tightly controlled expression and words, it was easy to forget this man just lost his father.

"For the first time in eons, three infinity stones reside in the same place. This cannot be. Odin has decreed that the Aether and the Mind Stone must be moved off Asgard—outside the Nine Realms."

Buri accepted the answer with the same stoic silence he accepted everything. Byggvir knew him, Taylor could tell, just by the patience the man showed while waiting a response.

"Your father was to receive dwarven gifts for my pupil."

"In my skiff, Eldest," Byggvir said.

Buri nodded, then glanced briefly at Taylor. "Telos will accompany the stones."

Taylor opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it. Not only did the idea not bother her, in fact the idea of traveling to another world was exciting. Only the somber occasion dampened that excitement. Byggvir noticed her catch herself and nodded. "They leave by Bifrost at dawn."

"She shall be there."

Thus decided, the two men stood and clasped their arms together. To Taylor's surprise, Byggvir then offered his arm to her as well. "My father was fond of you, Telos," Byggvir said. "And if his words are true, the queen his sister viewed you as a daughter that might have been, given flesh. Remember them kindly."

"How could I not?" she said, her voice hitching in her throat. "They were both so kind to me. I could not help but love them."

"As did all who knew them," the older man said. A ragged surge of emotion thickened his voice before he swallowed it down. "Be well."

When he was gone, Buri stood with his head bowed in thought. "Today, you fly. Tomorrow, you begin your journey."

~~Titanomachy~~

~~Titanomachy~~

The dark magic came easier; the dissonance was always there, now, in the back of her mind. The five books she'd absorbed explained how Asgardian spells were little more than programs designed to direct the dark energy into complex patterns that resulted in the desired outcome.

The outcome she wanted at that moment was for a low-mass body. She concentrated as she formed a shell of the magic around her, doing so until she felt almost like she did back on her Earth. When her body was only a third her weight, she bunched her legs and then leapt into the air with all her might.

Her flapping wings slowed her down, but she did not fly. She simply fell slowly, so that Buri could more easily enjoy the awkwardness of it.

"It is not enough to weigh the same as a bird," he said. "You must fly like a bird. You flap your wings with no purpose. Do not jump, just flap your wings. Feel the air flowing so that you may harness it."

She picked herself up and bit back a smart reply. He wouldn't be upset, he just wouldn't acknowledge it. So, as awkward as it felt, she stood moving her wings back and forth. Unlike a real bird, exhaustion wasn't a problem. She was still just as physically strong as before.

What she noticed, though, was when she cupped her wings in a certain way she could feel them pulling her up slightly. The air didn't push her, rather it seemed to pull her. She closed her eyes and wrapped herself again in the magic to lighten body, and with a flap of her wings she lifted into the sky. It wasn't like before, when she could shoot up like a bullet, but as she kept flapping, she stayed off the ground.

It took hours of practice; there was nothing instinctive about flying any more. Or, rather, it required instincts she didn't have yet. So, she trained herself with new instincts. By the fifth straight hour, though, she was able to leap into the air and with a few awkwardly frantic flaps begin flying relatively smoothly.

Landing was still a challenge, but she was so happy she didn't care.

"Did you see?"

Buri stared at her with his implacable face. "Not so well as the tree," he said.

Unable to help herself, Taylor blew a raspberry. "I still flew."

"Flying never hurt anyone. It is the landing one must be mindful of." It was, for Buri, a side-splitting joke. "Come."

With the heavy mid-day meal they ate with Byggvir, Taylor prepared a light dinner of bread, cheese and apples. She had a slight headache from the meade, so didn't have any herself, but got out another pitcher for Buri. He didn't drink often, but after the terrible news of the day, she didn't judge him for indulging.

"You have much to learn," he said after a second stein. "Much. But you learn fast. In fifty years, you might give a good account of yourself to the finest artificer of Asgard."

She knew he meant it as a compliment, since most of the crafters of Asgardian technology apprenticed for centuries. "You are a good teacher."

Even as she said the words, Taylor realized they weren't just lip service. Thinking back over the past six months, she realized that he truly was the perfect teacher for her. He never gave her lessons-instead she read one of the books, and then the next day he would through words or practice help her actually understand what she'd absorbed.

While she'd lost her native magic, he'd helped her find and reclaim a new magic. Without that, she'd never have been able to fly again.

"Thank you," she said as the sheer weight of what he'd done for her settled in her mind. "For doing so much for me."

Those painfully blue eyes stared at her for a long moment before he dipped his head to the side. "In the pantry are two things wrapped in burlap. Bring them."

She fetched the two items, both of which had the feel and weight of weapons. When she came back to the table, Buri was standing. He took both, the longer and the shorter, and placed them on the table. He unwrapped the shorter item first, revealing a breath-taking Asgardian double-bladed sword and sheath. The Asgardian steel had an odd, green-tint to it, and in the pommel she saw what looked like carved mistletoe.

Buri regarded it with a stern expression. "This blade was once wielded by a child of Odin. It took the life of a child of Frigga. This is Misteltein, and it was the sword that at once took Baldur from Vanaheim, but brought peace to Asgard. For on the day that Odin and Frigga wed, he cast its wielder to Helheim, and presented it to Frigga to be destroyed. It was such a marvelous blade that she could never destroy it. When you came, though, she knew it would see use again. This is her final gift to you, Telos."

Taylor took the millennia-old weapon, and the moment she touched it she could feel it responding to her. She could feel it's grip adjusting to her hand, and its weight adjusting to her balance. The dissonance of dark magic somehow tuned itself in the sword until it was utterly in tune with her own being.

Buri nodded with satisfaction. "The blade accepts you. That was crafted by the dwarves at the request of Hela Odinsdottir. Powerful, blood-thirsty. Together, Odin and Hela ruthlessly conquered the other nine-realms until Vanaheim alone stood resolute. It was her contemptuous act of striking down Frigga's son and her husband that made Odin understand the monster he unleashed; it was the sword rejecting her that weakened her sufficiently for Odin to cast her out. It has never accepted another since, until now."

"Does that make me a monster?" Taylor asked worriedly.

"It makes you worthy. The blade took the life of Frigga's first-born son; it is right that one who could have been her daughter wields it now in his memory."

The scabbard was a beautiful thing, made of leather and bound in Asgardian gold and gleaming emeralds. The mistletoe theme continued, mixed in between runes of strength and preservation. The sheath hung from a narrow belt of Asgardian steel rings that caught the light from the fire in the earth. She sheathed the blade reverently.

He unwrapped the longer item-the staff he'd mentioned to Durinn and Dvalinn. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of it.

The staff was black, standing at seven feet. The center grip was a silver-tinted Uru, as were the weighted ends. "Is that...Ymirish bone?"

"This staff was mine, crafted in my youth from my father's bones. If you were to put the weight of all nine realms on this staff, it would not break. Like Hofund, the blade of Heimdall, or Odin's own Gugnir, it will allow you to concentrate and use dark energy powerfully enough to summon the bifrost, if you must. This is my gift to you."

Her hand shook when she accepted the weapon. Its weight shocked her-if not for her power it would have pulled her hand off, it was so dense and heavy. Just like the sword, though, she felt an intense dissonance of dark energy within it that seemed to tune itself to her own being, until just like the sword it hummed in her mind with perfect clarity. When that happened, it's weight faded until it felt as light in her hand as a feather.

"In the end of the grip, above your thumb, is a wolf's head. Push it."

She touched the button, and the seven-foot staff collapsed into the foot-long center grip with a zipping-ting sound, leaving only the weighted Uru caps merged perfectly with the center grip.

"Like Mjolnir, only you can wield this weapon," Buri said. "No other will be able to lift it, since the bones of a Celestial are as dense as a neutron star." He handed her another sheath, this one of leather and Asgardian steel with symbols of wolves and runic spells of concealment. It had a look designed for the belt that already held Misteltein.

"Why?" Taylor whispered.

"The only one worthy of this died four thousand years ago, by the sword on that belt. I find it fitting that the one who wields the blade that took Baldur's life also wields the staff that Baldur wielded." He stepped past her toward the stairs. "Sleep now, Telos. Tomorrow you will take your first free steps into the greater Universe."

~~Titanomachy~~

~~Titanomachy~~

Sleep was a long-time coming. When it did come, she had nightmares of falling; of hearing her mother cry out over the phone when the truck crashed into her. Freya, Queen of Asgard, was I. I am fallen. Run, little owl! Flee this place…"

~~Titanomachy~~

~~Titanomachy~~

She bathed with the bucket and sponge, having washed her hair the previous night. Over her hand-made linens, she pulled the war kilt that Dvalinn had crafted-heavy wool with steel bands to strengthen it, over which were overlapping flaps of Asgardian steel. The greaves fit perfectly over the boots that Frigga gifted her six months prior.

The cuirass latched at the sides, with a clever design that let her put her arms and wings through, and then secure it under her left arm. The side latches disappeared into the metal once secured. The main breastplate ended just above her ribs, with a more flexible layer of Asgardian mail hanging below that to ensure ease of movement. As with the weapons, she could feel the enchantments in the armor attuning themselves to her.

The armor came with a helm, and was perhaps her favorite feature. The helmet consisted of a golden circlet. Once it attuned to her, a mere thought caused it to expand into a helm with the classic T-shape for eyes, nose and mouth, with beautifully crafted golden wings from the side.

The armor came with two rings, one made of polished obsidian, the other of smoothed diamond. The first could aid in casting an illusion of herself as a mortal, just like she could with Brigid's mithril armor. The second ring was nothing less than a conduit for dark energy. With the ring, reducing her mass for flight would take no concentration at all.

The best of all the items, though, was the bow. Just like the staff, it was collapsible. When expanded, the four-foot recurved bow bore a string not of steel or wire, but of pure dark energy. The draw strength must have been measured in tons, since it took even her some effort to pull it. When it collapsed down, it fit on the top of the quiver of ten enchanted arrows that hooked cleverly onto one of the pteruges of her kilt at the thigh.

Fully armed and armored, she made her way down the steps to find a sweetened porridge waiting for her at the table with Buri. A leather satchel lay on the floor at his feet. They ate without a word, but when they were done it was he who took the bowls to clean. When he returned, he handed the satchel to her.

"You may be gone a few weeks," he said. "Clothing, and a few books to study while away."

She accepted the satchel and hung it over her shoulder opposite the quiver. He looked down at her, and after six months, she could see the shadow of all he lost in his eyes. Despite knowing he did not care for it, Taylor leaned forward and hugged the ancient god. As old as her father was, this being was older than Olympus itself.

"Thank you for all you've done," she said. "I hope to learn more when I return."

"Of that, I have no doubt," he said. "Now go. Do you remember how to open the portal?"

She'd never been able to before. But with her second ring?

She led the way outside, and using the ring, summoned the Dark Matter until the portal opened back onto the Bifrost Bridge.

"Fare thee well, Telos Freyasdottir," Buri said.

With a beaming smile at this fatherly being who had done so much for her, Taylor stepped through the portal for the journey that awaited her.