Epilogue
Iza wakes slowly, the world filtering in one sense at a time. First it is the sound of slow, even breaths, a rustle of fabric, the tiniest scrape of a claw against dirt and wood. Second is scent, a rich meaty brew and the nuttiness of fresh baked bread and the honeyed sweetness of ale, followed closely by a scent that is all too familiar to her now – sweat and leather and the scent of pine after it rains. Third is the taste of stale water in her mouth, a dryness of her tongue that tells her she has been sleeping for a long while. Fourth is touch, the supple firmness of a hay-made mattress beneath her back, the near-weightless drape of her tunic against her skin, and the sensation of a rough, calloused hand holding her own as gently as a flower.
Iza opens her eyes, just a sliver, and allows sight to be the final sense. She is greeted by coppery hair feathered over a strong brow, a straight nose, and pale pink lips pouted in sleep. Edvard is slumped over on his side, his head resting just beside her hip, his hands carefully holding one of hers. He snores, just a bit, and his nose twitches.
Although she stifles her amusement – and the pleasant surprise to discover once again how innocent her Edvard is when he is sleeping – her poorly-concealed mirth does not escape notice. From where she is languishing near the hearth, which has died to embers, Eko lazily opens one eye to pin Iza with a vaguely amused look of her own. Their bond buzzes merrily in the back of Iza's mind, both of them wholly relaxed in a way they had not been since the first few moments following Eko's hatching.
It is over, Iza says with relief.
It is, Eko agrees.
What has been happening? How long have I been asleep?
Eko closes her eyes, but opens her mind, allowing Iza to comb through everything that has happened in the – by Frigg – near day Iza has been slumbering.
There are several key points that draw Iza's attention – namely that the villagers have returned from their evacuation, the village itself sustained damage but no fatalities, and the villagers are now arguing amongst themselves what should now be done about the dragons. The Chieftain and the Elders have been holed up in the Great Hall, alternately coming out to start discussions and take opinions, before returning to continue their own terse meeting. From what the villagers say, it seems the Elders and the Chieftain are split on what to do, with the Elders being adamant that the dragons and riders need to be restrained and the Chieftain insisting that the advent of progress is not something to be discouraged. At this point, it is a stalemate that the village as a whole reflects. Nobody quite knows what to think or what to do, and so they continue on in circles.
Meanwhile, the dragons and the riders have retreated back to Edvard's house to recuperate. There are minor injuries between Emebor, Jaspar, and Jakob, but nothing that cannot be fixed with rest and a good healing salve. As to the dragons, only Kaldr sustained any injury, a long burn on the underside of his belly that has turned his scales white that he earned by protecting his rider – something which Iza senses Eko admires quite a bit. All off their injured are being tended to by Carlisle and Esme, who has made herself useful by providing food and news from the village.
The dragons from the mountain have mostly retreated, although several are scattered through the forest and the lower peaks to act as messengers – it seems they also want to be informed, something which Iza can only respect since they now need to guard against human violence in retribution now that their tyrant is gone. When Iza asks about Dagmar or any of the other dragons who have emerged from the haven within the mountain, Eko has no answers. Evidently Dyngju and Leiptr have made themselves the primary emissaries between the village and the mountain dragons, and have tasked themselves with staying abreast of both situations.
To Iza, it mostly sounds like things are up in the air. Not quite as settled as she assumed it would be when the biggest threat was taken care of. After all, what is there to think about now that Nidhogg has fled? With no Malice Striker around, there is no reason to fear the dragons – and likewise, surely the dragons know that humans have no ill-will toward them now that it is know just how deep Nidhogg's influence was.
And yet, it appears that these things Iza finds obvious are, at best, simply not recognized by her village, or even her allies.
Frankly, Iza is baffled. Should not they all simply know?
But of course, simply knowing things is something only Iza can do – although she does notice that this instinct of hers does not show itself as readily, as eagerly, as it did before the battle. She vows to ponder that later, after more immediate concerns are dealt with.
Feeling the soreness in her body, Iza aches to sit up and stretch her limbs. But if what Eko says is true, then Edvard has spent an entire restless day and night sitting vigil by Iza's side, refusing to leave except to eat and bathe. By Eko's reckoning, he has only just fallen into an exhausted sleep. Stubborn man. Not wanting to wake him, Iza resigns herself to waiting until he wakes up on his own.
It allows her time to turn over these new problems for a while. And to think about other things that she has been putting off.
By the time Edvard wakes, Iza has already reached the inevitable conclusion. After all, had the clues not always been obvious? She does not need to be the daughter of a Norn to know what will happen now.
"Iza?" Edvard rumbles, eyes opening blearily. He stares up at her for a long moment before his head pops off the bedding and he leans over her, just barely tracing over her jaw. "You are awake," he murmurs softly, a tone just for Iza. He frowns at her. "Are you okay? You fainted after-"
Dimly, Iza realizes Edvard is fretting. She catches his hand, stopping him from his anxious fluttering, and says, "I am fine. Sorry to have scared you."
"Worried, not scared," he corrects, but it is half-hearted at best.
Iza lets it go. Instead, she says, "Eko has told me of everything that has happened."
"Then you are better informed than I am," Edvard tells her. "I have been here since the battle. The others have come and gone, and Carlisle has been by to check on you, but they have told me nothing and I have no asked."
She is speechless, but only for a moment, her sense of responsibility making her speak up. "Edvard…you are next in line to be the Cheiftain…"
"And I know how to manage my priorities," he says firmly.
Iza's face heats up at the implication. "Be that as it may," she says, averting her gaze and sitting up with some effort, her body sore and her skin oddly pinched. "We cannot afford to delay. Things are precarious."
Edvard helps her to stand. "You should be resting," he mutters. "But I am wise enough to know I cannot stop you. So, lead the way. I will follow."
I know you will. Edvard will always follow where she leads, ready to partner and support should she need it. This time, he follows her through the hushed chaos of the village and to the Great Hall. He hesitates at the doorway, but even with the eyes of stray visitors on them, Iza is quick to lock her hand in his and walk them both inside. Immediately, the terse conversation between the Chieftain and the Elders halts.
The most agreeable of Elders looks at hers and her eyes light up. "Ah, excellent. This child can settle the argument."
"She is a child – and a heretic at that!" another Elder scoffs.
"She is less of a child than you, my friend," says the first, smiling serenely at the sputtering that soon follows. The agreeable Elder gestures for Iza and Edvard to come closer. "And if not her word that you will respect, then you can at least listen to this man, yes? Unless he is also suddenly a child."
The irritating Elder remains silent, thoroughly cowed by the older woman.
The Chieftain, meanwhile, scrubs a hand over his face and says gruffly, "Children or not, this is not a decision they need be involved in."
The agreeable Elder shakes her head. "We are having a discussion among leaders of this village. This girl has been leading in your stead for months, using that Mik child as a mouthpiece, and this young man has been picking up all the slack. They have been instrumental in our survival, heretic or not. Are these not leaders?"
There is grudging agreement from the Elders and a silent nod from the Chieftain. And then the meeting resumes and Iza quickly catches up – instantly realizing that her gut feeling had been right.
They are discussing what to do now that the dragons are free. Instead of being relieved that dragons are no longer under control of something that had been making them violent and territorial, the Elders are concerned that free dragons will be just as much of a threat. Without something bringing them to heel, they will run amok. And so, the Elders find themselves torn into two camps – stay and eradicate the rest of the dragons, or leave and settle elsewhere.
Those who want to stay are called foolish, while those who want to leave are called cowards.
Iza looks at Edvard and Edvard looks at Iza – and they know which camp they fall into.
And when Iza looks at her father, she knows which way he wil go. So when the Chieftain speaks, talking as if he has been speaking of the same idea for hours, she is not surprised when he brings up Iceland. "We will settle there," he says, leaving no room for rebuke. "It is safe, the land is fertile, and there are no dragons to worry about. We will flourish there."
Naturally, Iza finds space to rebuke anyway. "Be that as it may, I do not think the entire village will be in agreement," she says.
Her father looks at her, dark eyes hard and his mouth firm beneath his beard.
Edvard speaks up before the Chieftain can. "There is more support for the dragons than you might think. The younger generation has not closed their minds and I do not think they should have to."
"So you would have us stay?" the Chieftain demands.
It is Iza's turn, her hand still warm in Edvard's. "We would have you go, taking those who want to leave, and we will stay, taking those who want to make peace."
"Separate the village?"
"The village is already separated," Edvard points out.
Iza lifts her chin. "And is Edvard not your choice for next Chieftain? He can simply take up the mantle sooner rather than later."
Edvard's fingers squeeze around hers. "We will take up the mantle. A joint leadership for a renewed village," he says quietly. But his eyes are hard, daring and challenging. He will not move from this opinion. He will maintain this position because it is right, and for no other reason.
And perhaps the Chieftain sees this, because he exhales heavily, closes his eyes, and says, "It could work."
"Chieftain!"
Her father holds up his hand, halting the protests where they stand as he looks at the Elders with his own challenge. "He is my choice and she is my daughter. If it is true that the youth would like to stay and make peace with the dragons, then they should try. Forcing them to come with us will not bring peace, and if it does not work then they can always journey to Iceland." The Chieftain pauses then, gaze soft on Iza. "I am proud of what my daughter has accomplished. If she thinks this is the way, then I will put my trust in her."
And at that, there is no room for the Elders to argue. It is perhaps the best compromise any of them can come to, and it is a compromise that spreads rapidly through the village.
The next several weeks sees a lot of planning as families decide to stay or go. All throughout the harvest, Edvard's prediction that the younger generation would be willing to stay in Forks is proven true. And so the colder months are spent in preparation for settling in a new place, as well as seeing to the settlement of the free dragons as Dagmar comes from her haven and takes back her throne.
For Iza, it is astonishing to see how rapidly things can change. The fall passes as it usually does, with the exception of the dragon riders putting their skills to use as fliers and speeding up many of the processes that take the village weeks to complete. It is this that sways a few of the middle-aged villagers to try staying rather than migrating.
But even still, at the start of winter, it is clear that more are leaving than staying. And that is fine, she thinks, because the younger generation is ready to build themselves families.
She and Edvard certainly are – they plan to marry in mid-winter, just like Alise had predicted. They are already partners in every other way, and now that they have come together, it seems that neither of them can bear the thought of being separated. Somedays, even leaving to sleep in different houses seems like too much of a strain.
Iza finds that her lips and her skin misses Edvard in the night. She cannot wait to share a bed and find another type of peace in his arms. That they manage at all to be chaste in the days leading to their union is something which can only be attributed to Edvard's respect for the Chieftain. If Iza had her way, she would have her way. Sometimes even she is surprised by her lust.
But there are things that can distract her. For one, aside from the rush of the harvest and the preparations that are spreading through the town as winter snows settle in, there are unexpected things that come to light.
The scar on Iza's body has faded to silver, near invisible to the eye unless seen in the moonlight. Along with the fades scar is an absence of that deep-rooted instinct that had guided her through the last few months. Now the only intuition she has is her own. Any magic that had been stored in her body has been reduced to almost nothing. Only her bond with Eko remains.
And for Edvard, the change is more distinct. He had used so much magic to fight Nidhogg that now his ability with seidr is scant. Although he is lucky to be able to light a fire at most, Edvard is relieved that the magic is gone. Now he has one less secret to hide from those who place their trust in him. He will always be Lokison, but now it is mostly in name rather than in ability.
They share the thought that these sacrifices of their birthrights are more than worth it for what they have found in return.
It is as Iza says each time they separate, warmth lingering on their lips. "This is enough."
And yet while there has been much peace made, closure seems to have a way of sneaking through when it is least expected. It is one such day where the final scrap of peace settles itself gingerly in her mind – a frail bit of peace she had never been bold enough to search for.
Iza has just returned after a bath in the cold spring when she sees it. Still shivering from the cold and the tiny flakes of ice that fall from the sky, Iza is quick to light the hearth in her father's longhouse. She turns, expecting to see Eko behind her has always, but finds that Eko has not followed her inside. Iza hurries to the open door, intending to call out to Eko, but stops short when she sees that there are two dragons in her yard.
First is Eko, who has laid down on the grass with a sense of serenity even though the frost on the grass has not melted from the overnight freeze and it must surely be cold. Second is Kaldr, who had evidently followed them home through the forest and who is, as far as Iza can see, pacing with a pent up sort of energy.
Iza frowns, but holds her tongue and watches.
Kaldr moves closer to Eko, never slowing or stopping to rest near her, but certainly close enough that it can be considered circling. As he does, he occasionally let's out a cool trail of ice, something like a dare. In return, Eko turns her head up and to the side when he passes close again and blows a short, narrow stream of fire right in his face. Kaldr growls and ice meets the fire in a puff of steam – and then he finally moves close enough to get into Eko's face, aggression writ on each scale, only to be greeted by a cold rush of ice landing on his nose. Kaldr blinks, pausing, and Eko take the opportunity to flick her forked tongue against his nose.
Kaldr's ears pin back, his wings drooping as he loses his hostility, and Eko let's out a low trill that has Kaldr dropping unceremoniously onto the ground beside her, looking to all the world as if he is reluctantly resting near Eko. But still he stays, even when Eko shuffles to rest her head beneath his, her muzzle turned into the newly scarred scales climbing up his throat. Kaldr rumbles a warning, but he does not snap at Eko, and Iza can feel through their shared bond how pleased this makes her dear dragon.
Eko watches this glimpse of a complicated courtship with a smile, then turns away from the door, closing it behind her to search for a comb so that she can brush her wet hair. She need not worry about Eko at the moment – after all, she has her own wedding to prepare for.
Usually, it is a mother or an aunt that helps a girl prepare for her wedding. As Iza has neither, she has resigned herself to preparing by herself. She has had help along the way with Alice waking her a new tunic in a fine, pale shade of blue, the fabric thin and delicate and embroidered with green vines and golden flowers – wedding clothes that reflect both the bride and groom. Róża has been thoughtful in helping Jaspar and Emebor prepare the clearing overlooking the fjord where Iza and Edvard plan to marry. Even Jakob has seen to crafting two fine rings as his own way of pitching in. But although she has her father's approval and the Chieftain will be in attendance to observe the wedding, Iza is still alone in this moment, just as she was when she crafted the lavender soap and oils to bathe in, just as she was when she soaked in the spring, and just as she is now when she weaves her hair into a series of complex braids after she is dressed.
It is fine, as far as Iza is concerned. After today, she will never be alone again – and neither will Edvard. They both have spent a lifetime aching for family that will never be there, but after they are owed, they will be each other's family. Which is as it should be, especially because of the other changes that will happen once winter breaks and the oceans are free to sail once more.
Iza sighs, chastising herself for thinking of the future when she should be grounded in the moment. Even on such an important day it seems she cannot resist the blood and its influence that still lingers in her veins. She will always be thinking of the future in some way – planning and anticipating – but she has also made a solemn vow to herself that she will focus on the moment more, especially the important moments that count for so much.
"I wish you luck on that, daughter of mine. I have been alive eons and have never managed to do so, but perhaps you are wiser than I," says a calm voice from behind her.
Iza's hand still in her hair and she turns to look at the being who has appeared in the longhouse. Even if the words had not confirmed it, she knows without being told who this statuesque woman with moon-pale skin and dual-toned eyes is.
Skuld, who Iza does indeed resemble quite a lot. But Skuld's otherworldly appearance had been tempered by the Chieftain's genes, and there are parts of Iza's face that are softer, rounder, less intimidatingly ferocious than Skuld's. True to her reputation as being a Valkyrie, the Norn is dressed in golden armor and strapped with weapons as sharp as the red smile on her face. Yet even with that smile, Iza can see something soft in Skuld's eyes, something fond which only mothers have.
"You're here," Iza whispers.
"I could not miss such an important day. Not after missing so many others," Skuld tells her.
"And yet you did miss others," Iza says, a touch accusing.
Skuld holds her head high. "My child, none of us are in control of our own fates, not even the Norns themselves. Ours is a burden to know what will happen and what cannot be changed. For me, your very life is no exception."
There is a question on Iza's tongue, words that have been itching around her brain since she was a child trapped in a hollowed tree in frozen winter with no hope if escape, word that have been simmering in the most tender, insecure places in her mind. And so she speaks them before her courage leaves. "Do you regret it?"
"Giving you life? Never."
"Because I was a Changemaker."
"Because you you're my daughter, in this life and the next and all that will follow," Skuld confesses softly. And although Iza does not know Skuld, she understands that this is a concession Skuld would not make for anyone else. Not even her sister Norns are given such blunt truth, not in the matters of Skuld's heart.
Iza swallows and looks down. She does not ask if Skuld loved her father, because that is a wound she does not want to open and see – and so she swears that none but her husband will learn of this visit. The Chieftain's heart is still bruised and knowing that his once-wife did or did not love him will not help anyone.
"You make a darling bride," Skuld says after a moment. "The Frigg-touched girl did a marvelous job on your clothes…but you are missing something."
Iza holds still while Skuld's hands touch her hair, working something that twinkles like bells into Iza's braids. And indeed it is bells that are being placed in her hair, tiny golden bells linked on fine chains that spill between inky locks of hair and glisten in the muted winter light. The bells are affixed by a small golden comb that sits just behind Iza's ear, its face adorned with the etchings of scales.
"If you speak my name to these bells, I will come, my daughter," Skuld says, both her voice and her touch a wisp that fades just as abruptly as they appeared.
Iza touches the bells in her hair and blinks away the tears gathered in her eyes.
Through their bond, Eko asks, Are you okay?
I am fine, Iza replies and knows it to be true. After all, she was not without a mother on her wedding day and that is a blessing she never dared to wish for.
This blessing is what carries Iza through the forest and allows her to kneel at the ritual alter at Edvard's side with grace, surrounded by friends and dragons with the Chieftain residing over the service. Iza becomes a wife in the midday of winter, mead rich on her tongue and her hand warm in her husband's after they bow to the Gods and share a kiss before witnesses. Iza becomes a wife and knows that more eyes than she can see are watching her ceremony.
It is enough.
And as she looks into to vibrant green eyes of her husband, she thinks, This will always be enough.
A/N: And that's a wrap on the official story. There are about five short outtakes planned, which I will try to get posted this week, along with a final author's note.
Thoughts on how things ended? As always, be brutally honest. I can take it.
~Rae