Chapter Twelve
"Remember, you have to be careful with Bragi right now," Gaea told the triplets, embracing each one as they looked on solemnly. "You can still play with him and hug him, but you can't be rough, alright?"
The girls nodded, clutching each other's hands. Gaea kissed each of their foreheads before joining Freyja, who was busy rearranging pillows on the sofa. The red of her hair was becoming more pronounced. Though it had only started to grow out red a few months ago, it had already reached her ears. Gaea wasn't certain what her daughter was going to do with it, whether dye the red gold, or the gold red.
"You don't need to keep fluffing those pillows."
"I know."
Gaea took her daughter's hands in hers. "Are you alright?"
Freyja glanced at where the little girls were whispering to each other. "Last night with Tyr, the first time was a victory, but it was difficult for the rest of the night."
"My first victory, I ended up sobbing like a baby moments later and couldn't continue." Gaea kissed her daughter's forehead. "Ah, Freyja. How unlike me you are."
"It's never going to go away entirely, is it?" Freyja asked.
Gaea hesitated. "It hasn't for me. But neither do I live with it every second. I have learned to live with it, and for the most part, I am able to forget."
"You are also thousands and thousands of years old."
The noise of a buggy clattering on cobblestones drew their attention, and the two women joined Freyja's daughters. Moments later, Idunn opened the door and came in. Frey followed her, carrying the legless Bragi in his arms. None of the girls except Idunn had seen him. Lofn and Var both gasped; Snotra immediately started to cry, burying her face in Freyja's skirt, while Hnossa went to get water for everyone, Sjofn turned on her heel and ran away- Lofn going after her- and Syn hovered right behind Frey.
Frey put Bragi down on the sofa. The stumps that had once been legs were bound, and Bragi smiled wanly at the girls.
"Quite a sight, am I?" he asked.
"Does it hurt?" Snotra asked, peering out of Freyja's skirt.
"A little," Bragi replied, holding his arms out to her. "I could use a hug, though."
She climbed beside him and put her arms gingerly around his neck.
Syn stared at the missing legs, brow furrowing. "You need a little buggy and horse," she declared.
Idunn laughed and scooped her little sister up, sitting beside her betrothed. "I am afraid that we're going to have to wait on that. We do not have the money at this time for a little buggy and horse."
"Shame," Syn said. "I'd name her Pepple."
Freyja sat down by her daughter. "You aren't planning on postponing the wedding?"
"Of course not," Idunn replied swiftly, though Gaea caught a hesitant look in Bragi's eye. "We'll have to put off buying a house, though, and I'm going to try to get more dancing students. I'm afraid that the soldier's remuneration isn't going to be enough to pay for the medical treatments that we want."
"You can have my quarters in the palace, or the old house," Freyja offered hesitantly, and Gaea knew that she was wondering if she was putting her daughter into danger. What if Atum came back looking for her?
"You all talk," she offered. "I'm going to go check on Sjofn and Lofn."
She left the room quickly, fighting tears. Memories pressed against her mind... Chthon's fists on her face, tying her hands behind her back, digging his fingers into her face, prying apart her jaws to stick his tongue in her mouth, calling her a filthy, dirty whore. The scars on her thighs from his teeth had faded until they were all but invisible, but some nights she still woke feeling him on top of her.
"I know you want it," he had whispered in her ear. "You're like an animal, let me free your instincts... That's a good girl, you like that, don't you?" And when she cried in pain, he laughed and bit her shoulder. "That feels so good. I know you like it."
Gaea shook her head, trying to dislodge the memories. She found Lofn and Sjofn in Sjofn's room.
"Are you alright, sweetheart?" Gaea asked Sjofn.
"Of course I am, why wouldn't I be?" Sjofn replied in a business-like tone. She was sorting through her paper dolls.
Lofn was crying softly, sitting on the bed. Gaea sat beside her and put an arm around her.
"Aha!" Sjofn exclaimed in triumph, pulling out a small box. She joined her sister and grandmother, opening the box. Inside were paper dolls in the likeness of her mother, uncle, and sisters. She sorted through them until she found the Bragi-doll. "Here he is."
"What are you doing?" Lofn asked, wiping at her face.
"Fixing him." With that, Sjofn carefully ripped off the doll's legs.
Lofn cried out in protest.
"Better," Sjofn said happily. "Don't cry Lofn!"
"Why did you do that?" Lofn asked, upset. "You ruined it."
"I did not!" the little girl shook her head. "Bragi-doll is perfect now. Come on, Snotra is probably bawling her eyes out. Honestly, I don't know what I'm going to do with that sister of mine!"
"Go on," Gaea urged, letting her granddaughters go on without her. Once they were gone, she laid down on the bed and buried her face in the pillows.
How could her son have become his father? Freyja had not shared any details with her, and Gaea was plagued nightly by images of Atum doing to her exactly what Chthon had done to her. But Freyja hadn't had bruises or cuts. There wasn't a mark on her. And she had felt the same horror from Atum as she had from Freyja. So then why?
Why?
She let the thought enter the ether that connected the Elder Gods together, but felt no reply. She expected none, hardly wanted one. There was no excuse, no justification for what Atum had done.
She had expected a black creature to issue from her when he was born. But instead she had seen the beautiful golden baby who stared back at her with green eyes full of intelligence, fully self-aware. Chthon had kept her captive for her pregnancy, had fully intended on raising the child to be his prodigy in destruction. She had escaped her brother mere days before she had given birth with the help of her sister.
If she hadn't been Chthon's captive, Atum never would have been born. And Gaea had never loved any of her children more than her eldest. But how could she now?
She heard a noise on the pathway leading to the house, and went to the window. The dwarfish brothers Brokk and Eitri were pulling a wagon up to the front step. Gaea frowned. What did they want? Brokk climbed into the back of the wagon, and Eitri jumped down. They began moving something out of the wagon. Within moments, Freyja was on the porch. Her eyes were fiery as she marched to confront the dwarfs.
"What are you doing?" she hissed. "I told you never-"
"Forgive us, my lady, but we heard of your daughter's betrothed," Brokk interrupted.
The brothers lifted down a folded device of some sort. Eitri unfolded it to reveal a wheeled chair, covered in supple leather, with handles in the back. Brokk stepped down from the wagon. Freyja pressed her hand to her mouth as she looked at the chair.
"This is light enough for any of your daughters to carry, and your son-in-law will be able to move himself about with or without help," Eitri told Freyja. "We are very sorry for his loss, and hope this gift will help."
Freyja was struggling not to cry, Gaea saw.
"Thank you," the goddess said stiffly. "I am sure Idunn and Bragi will be-"
Her voice cracked, and she threw her arms around Brokk, planting a firm and deep kiss on his lips. Eitri wasted no time in placing kisses on her shoulders, and Freyja turned from Brokk to allow him access to her mouth while the first brother kissed her throat. Freyja had to physically detangle herself from the brothers.
"Your gift is appreciated." she said. "But not until after the baby is born."
Gaea turned from the window, sighing. Freyja hadn't allowed herself a truly good man since Ve. This Tyr seemed like an honourable fellow, but Gaea knew that as soon as he or Freyja started to develop deeper feelings for one another, Freyja would distance herself, cruelly if necessary. The Elder Goddess wished that she could council her daughter not to keep punishing herself for past mistakes, but she knew it was useless.
Because Gaea did the same thing.
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Atum was in a half-drunk stupor when a snake coiled around his chest.
"Hello, nephew," it said in a hissing voice, laying its head on his shoulder. "Having trouble sssleeping, are we?"
"Go away," Atum muttered, breaking his arm free to finish off his bottle.
"Ah, but we ssso rarely have a chance to ssspeak," the snake mocked. "Essspessially sssince you have broken tiesss with my sssisster."
The snake lashed out, coiling around Atum's arm, crushing it and forcing him to drop the bottle. More snakes slid their way seemingly from nowhere. Atum raised his temperature enough to desiccate the snake holding him, but the others kept piling on, over and over. Killing one seemed to bring down ten more!
Set laughed as Atum struggled to maintain his balance. Eventually, buried under a writhing carpet of snakes, he fell. The snakes shifted, coalescing into one seven-headed form. Set's mouths opened, ready to tear Atum to shreds, and be rid of him once and for all.
"Ssso much for the valiant ssson of Demiurge!" he gloated. Atum did not move, didn't even attempt to. He felt relieved, ready and willing to die. He relaxed into Set's coils, and the snake pulled back momentarily.
Hesitating was a mistake. Pure, brilliant white light engulfed Set's form, reverting it back to a mass of now-dead serpents. The light coalesced, and Oshtur regarded Atum silently for a moment before handing him another bottle.
"What do you want?" he asked, not waiting for the answer before starting to drink.
"Do you wish to enlighten me as to what is happening?"
"No."
Oshtur grabbed a bottle for herself and sat down. "Are you so intent on pitying yourself that you would let my brother slaughter you without a fight? I thought that you had sworn to defeat him."
"I am the god-devourer, the demon-slayer. Do you think it wise to bait my temper?"
"I was not trying to anger you, merely trying to discover why you did not defend yourself."
"Perhaps I don't want to survive."
Oshtur's brow furrowed as she drank. "You know that should they defeat you, Chthon and Set would waste no time attacking your mother and her other children."
"They already attack them, what difference do I make?"
"His fear of you is the one thing keeping Chthon from attempting to re-enact the events of your conception."
Atum tensed. He lowered the bottle from his lips. "You think he would attempt that again?"
"And again, and again, and again." Oshtur finished off her bottle and held it out at arm's length. "This drink is so unpleasant."
"What can I do?"
"To improve this? I am not certain such a feat is possible."
Atum took the bottle from her and smashed it.
Oshtur raised an eyebrow. "Gaea is concerned."
"Not about me."
"You presume to speak her mind for her?"
Atum staggered to his feet. "Leave me be."
"What happened between the two of you? She refuses to speak with me about it. She has closed herself off from our connection, and by my vows I cannot go to her without invitation."
Atum sagged against a nearby wall. He looked at his aunt, and opened his mouth. But the words caught in his throat, and shame overtook him. He turned away. It was too late to change anything. Too late. If he told Oshtur what had happened, what he had done, what good would it do? Just one more person to hate him.
"Atum! Do not turn your back on your mother."
"She wants nothing to do with me, rightfully so. Now leave!"
He sensed his aunt depart, and sank back down to his knees. Freyja's blue eyes seemed to stare at him, and collapsing he began to weep.
He reached for a new bottle, but stopped. If he allowed himself to be killed by his enemies, Chthon would hurt them, Gaea and Freyja. The image flashed in his mind of his mother and sister both bound and sobbing while Chthon switched between them, howling with triumph and pleasure.
Rage bubbled in Atum's chest, and he pushed himself to his feet.
"I WILL DESTROY YOU!" he screamed. "I WILL DESTROY YOU!"