Chapter Seven

"Lady Freyja?"

Freyja snuggled deeper into Ve's chest, her eyes closed. She didn't want to wake up; life was a nightmare, and her dreams were so sweet...

"Lady Freyja..."

She felt a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her. She opened her eyes, and allowed herself to be moved back. She felt the amulet slide down from between her body and Ve's- Tyr's. Her heart sank as she realised that her time was up for one more year. Tyr gently detangled himself from Freyja's arms and legs, pushing himself up. Freyja sat as well, grabbing a pillow to cover the deep v-neck in her nightdress.

"He's gone again," she whispered, digging her palms into her eyes.

"Are you alright?" Tyr put his hand on Freyja's shoulder.

Freyja pulled away from him. "I'm fine."

She picked up the amulet and turned it over in her hands. It always hurt so much when Ve left again, but the ache in her heart was eased by the knowledge that he would be back again in a year.

Tyr swung off the bed and picked up his shirt. He pulled it on with his back to Freyja, and quickly buttoned it up. He turned back, his expression shy and hesitant. "My Lady, I hope this is not too forward of me, but did you and Ve...?"

"We didn't make love, if that is what you are asking."

Tyr looked uncomfortable. Men. Freyja shook her head as she stood. They'd have a woman the moment she bent over but as soon as a woman expressed the same desires as they did it was scandalous.

"Perhaps next year, then?"

Freyja frowned at Tyr. "What do you want in return?"

Tyr's brow furrowed. "I was friends with Ve, my Lady. I know how much he loved you. I am not looking for anything."

He bowed to her, and quickly left the room. Freyja stood very still for a long time, her brow furrowed as she stared at the space he had stood. She looked down at the amulet in her hand. She wished she had been able to talk more... She sank back to the bed, closing her eyes. Was Ve right? Did she deserve to be loved?

"If he wanted to see you in pain, he would have made you look in his eyes."

Freyja's heart felt like it was going to break. "I should have asked what you meant, what you thought, rather than getting so angry. I'm sorry."

There was only silence in reply. She moved to the table, and ate, alone and in the quiet, pretending that Ve was still with her.

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Atum finished off another bottle of vodka and slumped down, feeling the alcohol wind its way into his brain. He detested the feeling and detested his dependence on the drink even more, but even he needed to sleep, and this was the only way he could. He had tried weaning himself off the stuff. What if Chthon or another enemy found him passed out drunk?

Whatever they do cannot be worse than these confounded nightmares, he thought groggily, reaching for another bottle.

He wasn't sure when his dreams turned into a repeat of memory, but they did, every time he closed his eyes. Atum downed the bottle without stopping for breath. Maybe this time he wouldn't dream at all...

Her hair kept getting into his mouth. Freyja sobbed aloud, and Atum sucked in a breath filled with golden strands that stuck to his tongue as he forced himself to hold back his hatred and anger – of Chthon, of himself – he could not lose control and hurt her! Her tears fell onto his shoulder. He pulled her hair out of his mouth, pulling it off to one side. Freyja cried out, and then went limp. He put an arm around her shoulders to keep her from falling back onto the bed; he didn't want to see her face, didn't want to see the betrayal in her eyes.

"Isn't it enough?"

Atum sucked in another deep breath filled with her hair, and gently lowered her to the bed. She was still as limp as a broken puppet. She flinched when he touched her, covering her face with her hands. Atum sat back, hanging his own head in his hands.

Is that enough?

Not yet, I think. But you may give her a brief respite. It will make the next time more... penetrating.

"It's not over yet," Atum muttered, and Freyja recoiled from him as though he had been flailing his fists.

She would have preferred that, he thought, and so would he.

I did suggest giving her a little colour, but you refused. Perhaps you are changing your mind?

Don't.

Chthon chuckled. Freyja's hands were still firmly over her face. Atum stood, picked up the discarded towel, and spread it over her. He went to her vanity dresser, picked up her brush and a tie.

What are you doing?

Her hair keeps getting in my mouth.

So? Chop it off.

No.

You are so weak. You are supposed to be taking your pleasure with her.

Atum returned to the bed. Freyja hadn't moved. He pulled her up. She let him without resistance, her arms moving to keep the towel covering her. She stared straight ahead with eyes so deep with trauma they looked empty. Atum sat behind her and began gently brushing her hair.

You derive pleasure from this act? How bizarre.

Are you incapable of being silent?

Freyja's pale body shivered, goosebumps rising along her arms, flinching every time Atum touched her. He continued to brush her hair until he had gotten most of the tangles out, and then shifting to his knees, he began to braid a crown around her head. She was so still and silent and pale! She could have been mistaken for a corpse.

You are such a woman. Chthon's voice was scornful.

"You used to braid my hair when I was a little girl," Freyja whispered.

Atum's hands faltered. "Be quiet."

Freyja began rocking back and forth, her breathing rapid. Atum finished the braid and tied it off. He tucked the end in.

"You used to be so kind."

Atum's heart constricted.

It is time to start again.

"I trusted you more than anyone else in the nine realms."

Atum pushed himself to his feet. Freyja flinched, hunching over, her pale shoulders quivering.

"Stay here," he ordered. "I am coming back."

What are you doing?

Atum quickly strode into Freyja's personal bathing room and shut the door. He leaned against the wall, pressing his fists to his eyes. He longed to pound or break something, but didn't want to frighten Freyja more than she already was. He panted, fighting for mastery of his emotions. Was this a nightmare?

Get back in there and teach the whore her lesson.

"Don't make me do this, please," Atum whispered, hating himself for begging but unable to think about going back and hurting Freyja again.

I am not making you do anything. It is, and always has been, your choice. Go back in there, or this world dies.

"Please. Please, I will go away, I will stop fighting you."

That is not part of the terms I have outlined.

Atum dug his fists harder into his eyes.

I will give you until the count of three.

Atum forced himself to stand straight, and opened the door again. Freyja was no longer in the room. For a brief, shining second, Atum's heart lifted. She had escaped –

After her! Chthon hissed, furious. AFTER HER!

Atum rushed through the room, out into the corridor. Freyja was running towards the stairs. The sun-god dashed after her. She reached the top of the stairs when Atum caught her. She shrieked, shaking her head.

"Please, please let me go, please. I won't tell, I promise."

If you had done as I told you, you wouldn't have this mess!

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I won't do it again, please let me go."

Make her scream.

"Please stop, please don't make me do this, please Atum, please. Brother, I'm sorry."

She is just like her mother.

"BE SILENT!" Atum roared.

Freyja went limp. Atum collapsed to the floor, cradling her close to his chest, knowing all attempts at comfort would be completely futile.

"Please don't shout," Freyja whispered. "You'll wake the girls, I don't want them to see... Please don't hurt them."

"Freyja, your daughters are on Vanaheim. They're safe."

"Vanaheim?"

Atum closed his eyes. He could practically taste Freyja's fear. "Vanaheim. I am not going to touch them."

You are not touching her in the proper manner, either. Get back to work.

To emphasize his point, Chthon let Atum see an infant sitting in a doorway. He showed the whole house; it was empty, the child's father sitting outside washing a dirty diaper.

Chthon nudged the house's foundations. It collapsed instantly. Atum's arms tightened. Freyja whimpered. The father abandoned his duties, rushing towards the fallen house, screaming his infant's name. There was an answering wail and the father threw aside two beams to find the baby crying, red-faced, but unharmed.

You are not finished with her yet.

When I kill you, you will suffer first.

There was answering silence. Atum scooped Freyja into his arms, getting to his feet. Her head fell to his shoulder. She clutched the towel around her. He carried her back to the bed, and she didn't make a noise as he laid her down. Her expression was void of any flicker of life. Her blue eyes stared at him, but not with accusation. They were empty.

"Do it."

I told you she was enjoying herself.

No. Her blank expression, the pallor of her skin... she was attempting to find some sort of control, trying to make some sense of this...

"Do it," she murmured again. Her voice cracked, and a sliver of fear entered her empty eyes. "Get it over with."

You heard the whore.

"Close your eyes."

Freyja obeyed. And the nightmare started again.

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Frey walked slowly down the street, his expression tense and determined. A twinge of guilt surged in him for having lied to his mother and sister, but whoever had hurt Freyja had to pay for it. There were very few other homes by Freyja's house. He made his way to the nearest one. Freyja may not have recognised her attacker, but surely someone had seen something that night!

He rang the door, and soon a woman with silver hair answered the door.

"Lord Frey," she greeted, frowning severely. "What brings you to my house?"

"Forgive me, Lady Agata, but I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about an incident which occurred at my sister's house night four months ago?"

"An incident?" Agata sniffed."I have just returned from a voyage visiting my eldest son. My daughter Alti was staying in the house at the time, but I doubt she'll be of any use."

"Where can I find her?"

Agata opened the door. "Inside."

Frey entered the house, well aware he would have to watch his speech. Agata was one of the many who would blame Freyja for the attack, or even question it happened at all- If she wasn't such a whore, it wouldn't have happened. But she is a whore, why wouldn't she enjoy another man taking his pleasure of her?

Just thinking of what they would say made Frey want to draw his weapon and challenge every last one of them.

Agata led him into a large, ornate parlour, where Alti, Agata's daughter, was doing needlework.

"Lord Frey, what brings you here?"

"Something happened at his sister's house four months ago," Agata replied, sitting. "Mind your stitches!"

Frey glanced briefly at Agata before turning his attention to Alti. "Perhaps we can go somewhere to talk?"

"I won't have it," Agata said sharply. "Ask your questions here or do not ask them at all."

Frey ground his teeth. "Do you recall anything unusual happening around four months ago at my sister's residence?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Alti responded coolly. "Although..."

"Yes?"

"There was one night when I got up with the baby at midnight, I noticed that there was still a light on in her window." Frey frowned; Freyja had told him it was dark. "I may have heard her scream once or twice." Alti continued.

"Hardly unusual, from that house!" Agata interjected. "At least she has the decency to ship her daughters off while she engages in her sordid affairs! Those poor dears don't have a chance in the world to lead decent lives with a mother like that. They should have been taken away at birth."

Frey had to remind himself that striking a lady was always unjustified, unless provoked by fears of bodily harm.

"Not that you are doing any better with that wild thing of yours," Agata shot at Alti. "I swear, she's going to end up just like you! This is what you get from marrying a Norn, Alti."

"Mother, Sif does not even walk yet."

"You are too soft on her."

Alti visibly had to hold herself back from replying. She turned back to Frey. "The next morning I saw her burning something in her garden. I haven't seen her since."

"Did you see anybody that you haven't before?"

"No. Although there was the shadow of a rather large man in her window, briefly." Alti sniffed in the perfect imitation of her mother. "She could have at least had the decency of lowering her shade! We do not need to see her transactions."

Frey bit his tongue hard and left without another word. He didn't care what the two women thought of him. He went to the other houses, but they could tell him even less. Eventually he retreated to a tavern to mull over his problem. Freyja had lied to him. Obviously she knew her attacker, and it must be someone dangerous, or she would have told him. Although "the shadow of a large man" could mean half the soldiers in Asgard!

He rested his head in his hands, sighing. They could march into battle at any moment; Odin and his generals were always cloistered away in the war rooms these days. There had to be more that he could do to track down the man who had hurt Freyja!

He just didn't know what.