Eight
Iza has a choice to make. She spends countless minutes weighing the advantages and disadvantages of her options as she absently watches Eko find her balance, four clawed feet scrabbling against the cavern noisily.
A cavern is no place for an infant of any species to grow – but realistically, how long can Iza expect to keep a rambunctious dragon hidden in her own home? Still, the village has been giving her odd looks for her new habit of disappearing into the forest, something which she had been known for before, of course, but also something she now did thrice as often. And, she must admit to herself, if she cannot bring her dragon home when her father is away, then when else could she do so? And frankly, she's been running herself ragged trying to find enough time between village matters and the cavern; if she brings Eko home, then she might have a little more time to sleep.
Decision made, Iza sets to the task of gathering her stray possessions into her basket. She sorts through all the bits of coal and kindling for ones that can be salvaged, and carefully wraps the flint she has been using to keep the fire going. Then she manages to coax Eko into the basket.
For her part, the dragon is bemused by the basket, scratching at the woven sides curiously and then trying – repeatedly – to crawl up Iza's arm. Many times, Iza has to quickly duck into the cover of a bush and firmly tell Eko to stay in the basket. She only succeeds when, quite on accident, a bushel of berries fall into the basket and claim Eko's attention.
Iza watches Eko devour the sour unripe-green of the berries with a certain relish for a moment, considering the opportunity now set before her. She does not know when next she will find the time to forage for food her dragon likes – and since Eko is already here and Iza has the time…
Well, perhaps it is not widely known to the village, but Iza is nothing if not an opportunist.
Iza picks her way through the best berry bushes in the forest, selecting ripe and unripe berries of many different varieties and dropping them into the basket. Soon, the basket is near overflowing with the berries and a few palm-sized apples that have fallen too soon from their trees. The foraging is more than enough to cover up Eko, who is content with her hoard of fruit. Iza, for once, does not look the least bit suspicious coming back to the forest. Any villagers who see her will correctly assume that she has been foraging for springtime fruits.
It is just not all she has been doing.
Near-elated, Iza arrives at the longhouse atop the highest hill and sets her basket on the roughhewn wooden table. She unloads the goods in the basket into wide wooden bowls, sorting the berries by type, and then unearths a dozing, swollen-bellied Eko, who seems to have eaten her fill and then some. Iza cradles the dragon to her breast and rouses her just enough so that Eko's two-toned eyes will take in her surroundings.
"This is our home. You can be free here, for a while. But if people come, you must hide. Do you understand?"
Eko seems to digest her words for a while before a confirmation, a sense of understanding, travels along their strange mental bond. The dragon seems to realize the importance of Iza's words, but mostly Eko is sleepy. She is so young and the day, although short, has been tiring. She must eat and sleep a lot while she is this small, as all baby dragons do.
"Do you want the fire?" Iza asks, feeling only slightly ridiculous for talking to a baby dragon.
Eko's sluggish acceptance has Iza gently depositing her dragon into the banked flame on her hearth. It is human instinct that has her hesitating to stoke the fire higher and it is human instinct that Iza must ruthlessly stomp out. Eko has already told Iza what she needs in order to survive. Sleeping in flame is one of those things and Iza should not hesitate to meet that demand if she is able.
So she builds the fire around her slumbering dragon and watches the orange flames lick languidly and ineffectually against Eko's glossy black scales. The sight is surreal enough that Iza stares for a moment too long. By the time she has shaken herself out of her stupor, she realizes that the sun is beginning to dip in the sky and that her stomach is growling loudly.
Resolute, she turns her back to her dragon and straightens the longhouse, storing the fruits and finding a seedy bread to sate her own hunger. She drinks two cups of water greedily, not realizing how thirsty she has been; after a moment of hesitation, she sets out a bowl of water for Eko as well, along with the berries that the dragon had seemed to favor just in case Eko woke during the night.
Iza will have to see to finding them both meat tomorrow, on top of her other duties – such as reporting to the elders, as she should have done this afternoon, and seeing to any problems Mik has come across during his daily dealings. As she changes for bed and pulls a wooden comb through her hair, Iza's mind roves restlessly. The springtime is very busy, as the planting season is about to begin and the whole village will be tasked with pitching in where able. Spring also sees trade from Vikings in other villages, who stop along Viking settlements on their way to raids, and while no tourists have imposed themselves yet, Iza knows it is only a matter of time. She makes a mental note to inventory the village's tradeable goods and coin so that she will be prepared when the time comes…
Iza is lulled to sleep by the thoughts of her ever-lasting agenda.
Her slumber is deep and restful, and when she wakes, it is to the dense, almost uncomfortable weight of Eko's body perching on her chest. Two-colored eyes stare at her inquisitively as Iza blinks the sleep out of her eyes, her mind alert as she remembers in a flash that yesterday she had hatched a dragon.
"Oh, Frigg."
Eko cocks her head to the side in a bird-like fashion.
"Nothing to worry about," Iza tells Eko.
She ignores the stray thought that she's trying to convince herself, and sets to preparing for the day. She thought it might have been more odd, chatting to a dragon about her plans for the morning as she brushes her hair and tightens the stays of her chest bindings – but it is not odd at all. It is almost comforting, maybe because she is able to voice her thoughts. Usually, when her father is home, Iza remains quiet in deference to his rest. Now, however, there is someone to share her thoughts with – thoughts that, if she is honest, sometimes rudely intrude upon her peace. She can be very anxious at times.
And while it stands to reason that she should be more than anxious now – hiding a dragon in a village that dreads dragonfire – Iza finds that she can only be content. She hasn't felt this certain or secure since early childhood, when she was still ignorant of what it meant to be the Chieftain's daughter and sole heir to the village. Now, as an adult in the eyes of her peers, Iza finds that the burden she had been unaware of as a child is almost too heavy to bear.
Somehow, though, Eko's very existence eases the responsibilities she carries.
Perhaps because there is now something more important than Iza's responsibilities and the unspoken expectations she knows she is required to meet. Now there is Eko – and Eko is more important than anything.
Behind her, Eko trills and the sound is swiftly followed by a slow-blooming warmth spreading through Iza's body. Comfort, she realizes after a moment. Eko might not fully comprehend the complicated knot of Iza's inner-most thoughts, but she recognizes Iza's emotions on an instinctive level and unreservedly moves to support Iza in any way she can.
Iza has never had that type of companionship. Even Alise, her closest friend and confidant, is sometimes divided in her loyalty to Iza and the future the Norns see fit to show her.
Eko has no such duality. For Eko, there is only Iza.
Iza does not know how to return such trusting devotion from such an innocent creature. The best she can do is ensure Eko's safety and meet all of Eko's needs.
With that in mind, Iza moves to the wooden chest beside the door where her bow and quiver rest, waiting to be used. She hoists the bow over her breast, flipping her braid back over her shoulder, and straps the quiver tightly to her waist. Noting Eko's curious stare, she explains, "For hunting later. I cannot ask for extra meat from the Great Hall without raising suspicions – I have never been one to gorge myself on anything but fish, you see. So I will have to hunt for you myself."
Eko tilts her head, the frills on the underside of her chin and the top of her head flexing uncertainly.
Eyes wide, Iza hastens to reassure her dragon. "Oh, no! It's no trouble, I promise. I am a mediocre hunter, but I am skilled enough with the bow to fell enough to feed you. And I suppose it will be good practice for me…I have been meaning to elevate my skill for a while, but there has never been the time…"
No excuses now, she thinks to herself. She must feed her dragon. Already, she can feel the distant pang of Eko's hunger resounding in the back of her mind, proving to Iza that the berries from the previous day would not be enough to sate Eko for much longer. That thought in mind, Iza pointedly moves the bowl of berries to a more central position on the table with the firm instruction that Eko should eat when she feels hunger.
Eko seems to understand, moving eagerly to shove her face into the bowl, but the dragon stops mid-chew when she notices Iza move closer to the door. Eko senses that Iza is leaving and emits a sound not unlike a whine.
Iza frowns. "Well, you cannot come with me. The village would riot."
Eko's frills lay flat against her head.
"It is too soon. I must figure out a way to introduce you to the village without causing chaos – the situation will be very strange to them. Not everyone is as open-minded as Alise, and even she has yet to actually meet you…" Iza trails off with a soft sigh. "You will be safe here, Eko. Remain in the house until I return. I will be back soon. I promise."
And in truth, Iza does try to hurry through her day, anxious to return to the creature she harbors in her home.
Iza walks down the high hill to the visit proper, stopping off at Mik's home to collect him as she does each morning it is necessary to at least give the illusion that Mik is the substitute leader in the village. Her impatience must be obvious, since Mik immediately departs from his family's longhouse without delay, still buckling his pants around his soft middle and with a hunk of warm bread shoved into his mouth. He trots after Iza's quickened pace, chewing and swallowing and trying to speak around his breakfast. "What are we –"
"Docks. Elders. Great Hall." Iza casts a sharp eye over Mik's messy hair and the pink flush in his full cheeks.
He is, she thinks, the very picture of village privilege, having never known a day of true work or any hunger that lasted longer than mid-day. There are others in the village who have not been so blessed. Despite being second cousins, Iza finds that she cannot relate to Mik in this way; perhaps because she had an absent father and no motherly figure, Iza has struggled right along with the poorest in their village. She thinks it for the best, as she can understand the villager's needs in a way that is incomprehensible to Mik, but she also cannot help but compare Mik to the likes of Edvard or even Wilhelm and Jakob.
Iza turns her eyes forward with a sigh. "Hurry up, Mik. We have much to do today."
"R-right!"
Mik's presence, while necessary to maintain the illusion for the Elders, does slow her down a bit. All the same, Iza is nothing if not efficient when need be. Down at the docks, she quizzes the fishermen about their daily hauls and the condition of the waters. Have they seen any boats looking to come ashore? No, but she and the fishermen know that visitors will come sooner or later. She urges them to let Mik know immediately if they catch sight of any touring Vikings. The fishermen, including the younger Jaspar who Alise is infatuated with, look at nervous, flustered, stammering Mik and smile at Iza knowingly – and then they send her off with two slender fish wrapped in cloth as thanks for her diligence. One of the older fishermen, a man who is recently a grandfather, even goes so far as to wink at Iza and insinuate that the villagers know who the true substitute Chieftain is.
Which Iza takes some comfort in, since it doesn't seem that the Elders have the same knowledge. Although it is Iza who drags Mik to the Great Hall where the Elders spend their days arguing amongst themselves, the Elders – wizened old men who should seriously consider Ättestupa for the sake of the village – still look to Mik as if he has the authority. They seem to ignore the fact that Mik looks back to Iza before he answers any questions and the fact that Iza is the one who steps in with relevant updates of the goings-on of the village. And even after Iza speaks about the cages being shared to all the livestock farmers, the Elders still look to Mik and praise him for his hard work.
Iza merely grits her teeth and remains a respectful silence.
Mik, at least, looks apologetic when they leave the great stone hearth in the Great Hall in favor of the lean-to just around the back. He knows that Iza is being slighted for no reason other than her gender, but neither of them are in the position to deal with the Elders. The only one capable of that is Chieftain – and Iza is painfully aware that her father expects her to be a wife, nothing more.
Not for the first time, she feels a mixture of sadness and anger for her mother, who had disappeared without a trace and left a hardened, mistrustful man in place of a father.
But there is nothing to be done about it. And so Iza reigns in her pride and holds onto her dignity as she helps Mik go over any complaints or issues he has received from villagers. They are simple matters, arguments between neighbors and worries over repairs for the longhouses after the long winter. Now is the time for the village to get their bearings, as once planting season begins in a few short weeks, there will only be time for toiling at the ground to make a plentiful harvest in the fall. Any repairs need to be made now, since there would be no time after the harvest either to take on bigger projects. Listening with a keen ear, Iza instructs Mik on how to advise the villagers.
He may not be a true leader, but Mik can follow Iza's directions. And he is loyal to her, understanding his place in this strange little farce they maintain. They are a team in a way – second cousins who are neither suited to the stations in life in which they were born.
A stay thought breezes through Iza's mind – a thought not belonging to her, she realizes after a beat, since the idea is only perposturous enough to belong to a baby dragon who does not yet understand the world. From her safety in the longhouse on the hill, Eko wonders why Iza does not marry Mik. Eko considers only that Iza is a woman who will soon be expected to marry and that Mik has made himself useful to Iza in a way that another man might not. Eko does not consider the fact that Iza might wish to marry for love – an idea Iza scarcely allows herself to entertain – and she does not consider the fact that Mik has his eye on a girl on the cusp of womanhood named Jess who will make a good wife for him.
True, Eko is right to assume that Iza would be able to keep her position as a leader in the village if she married Mik. But Iza cannot imagine binding herself to Mik only for the sake of keeping her position.
Especially since she isn't sure she even wants her position in the first place. After all, Iza has only taken up a shadowed leadership in her father's absence simply because Mik is not capable of being the substitute Chieftain the village deserves.
What would Iza be doing if she were not looking after the village? Even with a dragon, she imagines that she would be working on her Eddas – the only spot of true joy in Iza's life, even if it did make her an outcast twice over with her peers.
But those are thoughts for another time – even thoughts for another lifetime.
It is after mid-day by the time Iza and Mik part ways, the village and the Elders taken care of for the moment. Mik is off to sate his hunger. Iza, on the other hand, doggedly treks to the forest after a quick inspection of her bow and arrows. Her day is only half-done. She still must hunt for the hungry dragon lurking in the back of her mind.
The moment Iza steps into the forest, she feels at home. There is a comfort she feels in nature that she does not feel in her father's longhouse. The towering trees and their twisting roots, the green-tinted sunlight dappling through the high boughs, the faint chirp of birds and the far-away trickle of the stream from the mountain river – all are more homely to Iza than her actual home.
But whether by habit or by her subconscious, Iza's feet take her along the path she walked on that stormy night months ago when Thor saw fit to strike and mark her. The forest, of course, is much different in the day than during a thundering night, but Iza instantly recognizes the place where she was struck by lightning the moment she steps into the small clearing. There is a deeply charred scar on the earth, still as fresh as the day it was bore into the ground by Thor's hammer.
Iza stares at the lightning-scarred ground, at the pattern that is mimicked in a pink scar on her skin, and finds herself unable to do much except breathe for several long moments. She drags her eyes away when she hears a faint crack in the underbrush and, without hesitation, readies her bow with an arrow. She takes aim at the the low roots of a bush not far away, waits for the slightest rustle, and then loosens her arrow.
There is a wet thunk and a small sound of pain as her arrow hits home. Iza moves on light feet, kneeling at the bush and dragging out a pheasant. She bows her head, grimly and efficiently breaking the creature's neck.
Iza takes no joy in the hunt. She already knows that she will not eat this kill. Eko can have the pheasant; Iza will eat the fish gifted to her by the fishermen. Her conscience will rest better for it.
Holding her breath out of squeamishness, Iza hurriedly skins and guts the pheasant, before placing her kill alongside the fish in her quiver. The bloodied bow is salvageable, she decides after checking the fletching and the arrowhead. She's glad for it. Nothing is more troublesome than making a balanced arrow.
Iza stands, brushing the dirt off her dark skirt, and turns around to head back to the village –
And stop short at the sight of the cloaked figure standing right over the center of the scarred earth. She makes to scream, but her breath is caught helplessly in her throat and she quickly finds that she is unable to make any noise at all.
Iza staggers back a step, and again finds her will subverted by something more powerful than herself.
The cloaked figure lowers the hood covering its face – and Iza finds herself helplessly blinking against the glow that momentarily blinds her eyes. And then when her mind makes the connection between what she is seeing and her own knowledge, she almost falls over.
Still unable to move or speak, she can only stare in shock as the figure – the man – steps forward with a smirk. "Come now, child," he says with a thread of amusement resonating in his whispery voice. "You act as if you are the only Halfling I have shown my face to in this quaint village. Oh, but certainly you are not. Curiously, my kin and I have been drawn to this place several times."
Iza can only stutter soundlessly, scarcely able to even blink.
"I am sure you know who I am," he muses, sending a quirked smile at her, as if thoroughly entertained by something. "I must say, I am a fan of your works – the Eddas, correct? Your storytelling is so thoughtful and so satisfyingly accurate. Have you ever thought on how strange that is? Ah, never you mind, child. A discussion for another time."
Seemingly to realize that Iza is not responding to him at all, the figure clucks his tongue and waves his hand lazily.
"Terribly rude of me," he says after Iza regains control over her own person again. He waits for Iza to regain her bearings, and then leans forward with his eyes alight in excitement. "You do know who I am, yes?"
Iza nods, a single jerk of her chin.
His smile widens to an unnatural slant. "Speak it, child. It is not often that mortals dare to say my name."
Iza inhales sharply and hopes that her shaking hands are not obvious. And then she draws on her courage and forces her voice to work. "Loki," she says. "You are Loki."
And Loki does as only Loki would do – he throws his head back and laughs in obvious delight.
A/N: And that's an update! The end was a surprise for me, too! Loki will be explained more in the next chapter.
I'd like to apologize for the delay in updates. It's not my usual while I'm writing something new unless I'm struggling with the plot - and I'm not struggling with this plot. However, RL has been...hectic. New job, new fires to put out, new anxieties. I've also be *finally* formally diagnosed as having bipolar II disorder, so I'm also adjusting to medications and all that fun stuff. It's a relief to know what's been going on with me for the last few years, but it's also kind of exhausting and terrifying. I'll adapt! Anyway. The next update should be sometime in May, hopefully in a week. We'll see. Thank you to everyone for your patience. And sorry if there was some repetition or contradictions in this chapter - it's been a while since I worked on this story.
As always, be brutally honest. I can take it.
~ Rae