Chapter Nine

Atum sat cross-legged in the centre of the town square, cleaning the blood off his sword. The bodies scattered around the square were beginning to ripen in the light he threw off, but he ignored the smell. They were all Chthon-collaborators, anyway. He would allow the villagers to bury their dead in the manner they saw fit, though, as a warning for others not to follow that path.

There were rapid footsteps approaching, and Atum looked up. He saw an older man approaching, his eyes wide, looking at his slain comrades with horror. He was dragging a young woman with him, who looked even more terrified.

"My lord," the man fell to his knees, dragging the woman with him. "Please forgive us for whatever we have done."

Atum stared at him coldly.

"Take my daughter as recompense-" The man shoved the young woman forward. She fell across a dead body and shrieked.

Atum stood, very slowly, and looked down at the trembling man. His gaze shifted to the woman. She was clearly terrified, shaking, tears already streaming down her face. Atum's anger grew hot, and he raised his hand, blasting the man.

The woman screamed and shrank back as her father was consumed by flame. She cowered as Atum approached her, flinching as he pulled her to her feet.

"Go home," he ordered.

The woman stared at him for a moment, and then ran as fast as she could. Atum kicked the smouldering remains of her father. His work here was done. Time to move on.

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"Why do we have to move, Mor?" Sjofn complained, packing the last of her dolls into a small box.

"Because this house is too small for us." Freyja leaned over and pressed a kiss to her daughter's head. "You'll love the new house, baby, you'll have a whole room to yourself."

"But that means I'll be all alone."

"You'll get used to it. Now get your dresses into your chest, I'll take your dolls out to the wagon."

Freyja picked up the box, attempting not to groan as her baby started kicking her again. This one was active, that was for certain! She didn't remember any of her daughters kicking so much, not even the triplets.

"Mother, you shouldn't be carrying around heavy things," Idunn scolded as Freyja made her way down the stairs. Her second oldest took the box from her.

"I'm not made of glass, darling, you've been around long enough to know that."

"Yes, Mor, you're as strong as an ox. You're also as wide as one." Idunn hefted the box. "Is Sjofn taking the garden path?"

Freyja laughed, and picked up a smaller box of linens, which she carried out to the wagon, where Gaea and Hnossa were packing things securely. Freyja handed her mother the box she was holding, and then leaned against the wagon side, rubbing her ribs.

"Hnossa, Idunn, I think we've got room for a couple of the dining room chairs," Gaea said. "Why don't you two run and get them?" The girls nodded. Gaea stepped out of the wagon and put her arm around Freyja. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine."

"You could have waited for Frey to return to begin moving."

Freyja bit her lip as anxiety for her twin twisted her gut. "Do you know what is happening? They've been gone for nearly a week!"

"Frey is unharmed, that is all that I know."

"I would ask Frigga if she knows anything, but I haven't seen her for so long! With Odin gone, she has to run the court and ensure the soldiers receive supplies. And Alti's young Heimdall stands at the bifrost and says nothing to anyone except the few generals Odin left behind." Freyja fell into silence. They had not received word of whether the battle on Midgard was going well or ill for the Aesir. And while Gaea could tell her if Frey was unharmed, she had no such news for Tyr.

I promised myself that I would never worry so for a man again, Freyja thought with a frown. We are not even lovers! Her head turned as she heard shouting in Agata's house, and she sighed. What had Alti done to upset her mother so much this time?

"Have you sold this house yet?" Gaea asked, frowning at the house next door.

"Not yet, although there have been several offers. Alti and Austmadr looked at it briefly, but can you imagine what Alti's mother would say if they bought it?" Freyja pitched her voice high and nasaly. "Bad enough that you marry a Norn but now to live in that whore-house! What do you want your daughter to grow up to be, you stupid child?"

"Yes, well, Agata is going to have difficulties growing her gardens for several years," Gaea replied pleasantly.

"Mother!" Freyja laughed. "You are supposed to be good and kind, not deal out petty vengeance."

Gaea shrugged, and fluffed Freyja's hair. "Your hair is turning so red."

"Women's hair sometimes changes colour during pregnancy," Freyja muttered. She was well aware that her golden hair had turned to fire at the roots. She had first noticed it two months ago when she looked into her mirror and thought her head was bleeding along the part in her hair. "It had better change back."

Gaea kissed her forehead. "You are beautiful no matter what colour your hair is."

"I know that I'm beautiful. But when I see my hair red... I think... is it because... Atum."

"Oh, Freyja. I did not consider that."

Hnossa and Idunn came back out, each carrying a heavy oak chair. Freyja helped the best she could to lift them up into the wagon, and Gaea tied them securely.

"That's good for now." Gaea hopped down from the wagon. "Freyja, why don't you stay here and help the little girls finish packing while Hnossa, Idunn and I go take these to the new house?"

Freyja nodded in agreement, but waited on the porch while she watched them drive off. She gently stroked the doorframe. She had moved into this house after Var, her third daughter, was born and it became apparent that her quarters in the palace would no longer suit her needs. It made her sad to give it up, but at the same time she never felt safe in its walls anymore. The new house was close enough to the palace that the girls would be able to play in Frigga's gardens, and it was large enough that each of them would have their own room, with an extra for guests.

Freyja was brought out of her thoughts by the sound of a slamming door. She turned to see Alti storming away from Agata's house, her little girl squirming and whining in her arms.

"Alti?" Freyja hurried along the path to intercept the older woman. "Are you all right?"

"I am fine," Alti snapped back.

Freyja quite nearly replied with a biting remark, but swallowed it back. "Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?"

"No, thank you. Perhaps some other time."

Alti continued on her way, and Freyja returned to the house. Var was trying to convince the triplets that they couldn't take the frogs from the pond with them. They all continued to pack, but after several hours Gaea, Idunn and Hnossa still hadn't returned.

"What is taking them so long?" Freyja murmured. "All right, girls, we're going to walk to the new house. It's not that far, don't give me those looks!"

Freyja shut the door, and took Syn's hand, Var holding Sjofn's, and Lofn holding Snotra's. They walked along, chatting animatedly, the triplets breaking into the occasional song and kicking stones down the streets. They were about halfway to the new house when Hnossa came upon them, walking. Her eyes were red, her expression in a state of shock.

"What happened?" Freyja asked, her heart thundering. "Is Frey-"

Hnossa shook her head. "Grandmother said that he's fine. But Idunn received a message. Bragi has been injured. They've brought him back, and she's gone to the healing rooms but there's no news on how bad it is."

Freyja transferred Syn's hand to Hnossa. "Girls, I want you all to go to the new house and help Grandmother."

"Is Bragi dead?" Snotra whined, tears starting to pool in her eyes.

"I'm sure he's fine," Lofn reassured her.

The three older girls began taking the triplets away, and Freyja hurried to the palace. She made her way to the Healing Rooms. They were full of soldiers in varying states of injury. Freyja scanned the crowd for Idunn's golden hair, and, finding her, she quickly joined her.

Idunn was kneeling on the floor, crying and smiling, holding the hand of a young man with a terrible black burn over his face. Freyja's heart dropped as she got nearer. It was Bragi. The burn at first looked horrifying, but Freyja knew that the Healers had enough skill that he would recover with only a hint of a scar. But both of his legs had been severed above the knee.

"Freyja!"

Freyja turned to see Eir, the most skilled healer in Asgard. "Eir, my daughter's fiancé-"

"He'll live," Eir reassured her. "But you should not be here in your condition! You could pick up an infection or illness. Go home. If you want news, send Var or Lofn, or your mother."

Freyja nodded numbly. "Tell Idunn that I was here?"

"I'll tell her. Now go!" Eir turned Freyja around and propelled her away.

Freyja walked back through the crowd, seeing for the first time the pained faces around her. Thirty years this war had been waging. Thirty long, terrified years...

"Freyja?"

Tyr stepped into Freyja's path. A rush of relief washed over her, but she held herself back.

"Lord Tyr. You're injured."

His arm was bound in a sling, but otherwise looked unhurt. He brushed off his injury. "Is your brother-"

Freyja shook her head. Tears started to flow down her face. Tyr put his uninjured arm around her, and escorted her out of the room. When they were alone, he turned to her and cupped her face with his hand.

"What happened?"

"Bragi. Idunn's betrothed. He's lost both his legs." The words sounded hollow in her ears. "He's alive, though. That's what matters. He's alive."

She looked up into Tyr's brown eyes and couldn't stop herself. She threw herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck, knotting her fingers into his hair, crushing her lips against his. He flinched back as she collided with his arm.

"Sorry!" she cried, pulling back. "I'm sorry."

Tyr didn't respond with words. He pulled his injured arm out of the way, and clutched Freyja around the waist. She drew his lips back to hers, and they kissed fiercely. Freyja pushed Tyr against the wall, and he giggled into her mouth as her rounded belly pressed against his stomach. He responded by gripping her more tightly, kissing her more fiercely.

Eventually Freyja pulled away. "I have to get home to my daughters."

Tyr nodded breathlessly. "I will be meeting with the generals for the rest of the day, but-"

"I'll meet you at your house after the triplets are put to bed."

She kissed him hard once more, and then quickly left. She did not linger on Tyr long, her mind almost instantly going to Idunn and Bragi and what she would tell her other daughters.

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Frey trudged up the long slope beside Odin as they walked towards the temple at the top of the hill. From the information they had received by the defeated Jotünns, this was where the Casket of Winters was being held. Frey didn't let himself dwell on the question of why they hadn't brought the casket to battle. They hadn't, and they had been beaten.

Frey stared at the weapon as he and the king entered the temple. It was over. It was actually over!

"Get the casket," Odin ordered.

Frey nodded once, and went to the casket. Suddenly, a baby started to cry. Frey's head turned. Odin went to investigate. When the blond god turned back, Odin's back was turned to him. The king hefted Gungnir and prodded something Frey couldn't see. There was a cry of pain, and Odin stepped back. Frey dropped the casket and drew his sword, running forward to aid the king.

To his surprise, a small Jotünn child with fire-hair darted past the king. Frey dropped his sword and caught the girl. She scratched at his face, and with a grunt, he pinned her arms to her sides. The girl kicked and snarled, twisting so fast that Frey was afraid he was going to hurt her. The struggle came to a stop when the reverberating stamp of Gungnir shook the temple.

"Who are you?" Odin demanded.

"I am Angrboda, firstborn daughter of Laufey King of Jotunheim. I demand that you release me at once!"

Laufey's daughter? "Your father has lost his war, little one," Frey told her. "Your demands are useless."

"What is this baby doing here in the cold, Angrboda, firstborn daughter of Laufey?" Odin stepped forward. With a bloody socket and a single eye left, he made for an intimidating figure. The girl shrunk against Frey.

"He is the firstborn son of Laufey, king of Jotunheim, and Farbauti his slave."

Odin brushed the girl's fiery hair with the tip of his spear. "You look half-fire-demon, girl. Who is your mother?"

Angrboda attempted to free herself, but Frey held her fast.

"I have no need of any mother!" she cried defiantly.

"Apparently this baby does not either, seeing as he was left here to die."

Angrboda was silent.

Odin stepped forward. "I have never met a fire demon, Angrboda of Jotunheim, that I have let live."

The girl responded instantly. She threw her head back into Frey's breastplate. He heard her skull crack and released her so she would not injure herself. She stumbled for a second, disoriented, and ran as fast as she could.

Frey shook his head. "You did not have to frighten her, my Lord."

"Her father killed my brother, it is fortunate for her that I did not leave her an orphan," Odin replied coldly, and then looked at the baby in his arms. He had fallen asleep. "You will tell no-one what you have seen here. Firstborn son of Laufey. He will be useful, in the future..."

Frey's brow furrowed, but he was too exhausted to question the king. Anything was better for the infant than being left in this cold world to die, wasn't it?