Chapter Eighteen
Freyja pulled her wrap over her shoulders against the chill breeze. She stomped along the streets, furious with herself. Even though her hair was immaculate, her clothing smooth and unruffled, her appearance giving away nothing of her hour spent with the dwarf brothers, she couldn't help but think people were whispering behind their hands.
Why do I do this to myself? she wondered for the billionth time. She didn't enjoy being the centre of gossip and scorn, no matter how loudly she proclaimed she didn't care what they thought.
She did care for Brokk and Eitri, in a way, but the moment she left either one of them (or both, depending on how greedy they were) she always hated herself. They cared only for one thing... Or perhaps that was all in her head. They did build Bragi his wheeled chair. Or was that merely a bribe to get her back in their beds?
"It doesn't matter." She assured herself.
"Freyja?"
The goddess stopped, going rigid. She turned slowly to see Tyr walking towards her. He looked hesitant, jaded. Freyja steeled herself. Whatever he said about her attack on Odin, she would stay calm.
"Lord Tyr," she said, a tad frostier than she intended.
"May I walk with you?"
Freyja touched the jeweled bracelet that Brokk had just given her as she considered. It occurred to her that he gave her a small trinket nearly every time she saw him. Her heart sank. Was she nothing more than a cheap harlot? Her gaze dropped. No, she wasn't. No wonder Atum had decided that he could just take what he wanted from her...
Don't think like that! she told herself firmly. Gaea had told her over and over again that nothing she had done gave Atum license to do what he had done.
"Freyja?"
"I'm going home, but you can accompany me for a while, if you wish."
They walked in silence for a moment, until Tyr gently touched her hand, causing her to look up.
"There is something I must ask you."
"What?"
"Freyja, when you attacked Odin-"
"He called my daughters whores."
Tyr rubbed his eyes. "That wasn't what he meant-"
"Then what did he mean?"
"Freyja, I am trying to ask you a question, will you let me or not?"
Freyja opened her mouth to give a snide comment, but stopped. She folded her arms and nodded curtly.
Tyr didn't look very placated, but his voice was even. "When you ran away, that wasn't anger. You were terrified."
"I was not."
"I recognise terror when I see it, I have been in enough battles. And sometimes when we're alone I see fear in your eyes. You flinch when I touch you, even if we've just-"
"What is your point?" Freyja snapped, not liking where the conversation was going.
"I don't understand why I frighten you. What have I done to make you think I'd hurt you?" Tyr's expression was frustrated, but sincere.
Freyja stared at him. In an instant, she knew that she could tell him what had happened. She could tell him, he wouldn't think any less of her. He would understand. Hold her while she cried.
He touched her hand, and she saw it all. She could love again. Be loved again. The image floated into her mind of them exchanging rings, beaming. She saw him swinging a toddling, blonde-haired, chubby cheeked imp into the air. She squealed with delight, kissed his cheek. She saw him kissing her lovingly, the way Ve used to kiss her, and then kissing her belly large with his child...
She pulled her hand away. What she saw was nothing more than hopeful fantasies. She wouldn't let anybody hurt her again. "I don't want to see you anymore."
Tyr's brows rose. "What?"
"I told you that I would not be tied to a man. I told you that I was not looking for love." Her voice was emotionless.
"I have done everything you asked of me, I deserve an explanation."
"An explanation? You are far too needy, asking for dinners and to talk."
Tyr's brown eyes grew stormy with anger and confusion. "You wanted to talk just as much as I did."
"I don't want to anymore. From this day forward, stay away from me." Freyja turned on her heel and walked away, head held high, blue eyes fiery, her footsteps firm.
When she got to her house, she asked Var and Lofn to keep watching the younger girls. She took little Sigyn upstairs to feed her and put her down for her nap. As soon as Sigyn was asleep, Freyja crawled into the nursery bed and started to sob like a baby.
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Frey had been to Heliopolis once, when Gaea had brought him and Freyja to the giant city. He had been so awed that he drew pictures of everything he remembered and plastered them all over his room in Vanaheim until Njord tore them all down and told him to stop dreaming and grow up. He had been only five years old.
As soon as the bifrost delivered him and withdrew, Frey was whisked through the city in a covered litter. His "guide," who he didn't recognise, was silent. Frey surmised that they knew where he was going, and when he was let out in the huge obelisk-library engraved with the image of an ibis he was proved right.
"Thank you," he muttered. His guide gave no response.
Inside the obelisk was a library, with books stretching from the floor to the very, very distant ceiling. Shelves were built out of stone, lined up in neat rows.
"Thoth!" he shouted.
"Do not shout, thou noisy boy!"
Frey turned to see his brother scrambling towards him, arms full of scrolls. "It's the only way I could get your attention."
"Loud noises may damage my works," Thoth hissed at him with narrowed eyes. "State thy name and reason for disturbing me!"
"I'm Frey, your brother, and I need to get in touch with Atum."
Thoth peered at him. "My brother, sayest thou? Well, then; speak 'brother'; by what name is my mother called?"
"Gaea, most of the time, although she goes by many different names." Frey fought the urge to sigh. "I'm Frey. We've spoken hundreds of times, why do you always pretend not to know me?"
Thoth sniffed and scuttled past him. Frey followed. They walked past books and scrolls, all kept in immaculate condition. Gaea had once told him that Thoth only kept the stories that he had read. If that was true, his brother must have truly impressive knowledge stuffed inside his bird's brain. It was the only thing Thoth had going for him.
"Why must thou stalk me so?" the Elder God snapped, hugging his scrolls to his chest, glaring at Frey over his shoulder.
"Because I'm looking for information. Do you know where Atum is?"
"My mighty brother does not see fit to inform me as to his intentions and whereabouts," Thoth replied, setting the scrolls down on a desk tenderly. "If thou must be here, stay thyself from breath. The droplets of water exhaled from thy lips wreck irreparable damage to mine words laid in ink on these pages."
"Thoth, this is important. Please listen to me."
"Lookest out the window, flaxen child. Perchance a swine shall pass while on wing!"
Frey grabbed the nearest book off the shelf. Thoth squealed, his eyes going wide.
"Listen to me, or I'll drop this and then stomp on it!" the younger god snarled.
Thoth swallowed nervously. "There, there, brother Frey, such cruelty is not necessary. Please, dear brother, sweet brother, clever brother, return that precious store of knowledge to its hold!"
"Do you know how I can contact Atum?"
"What reasons wouldst thou have, to call on a being of his temperament?"
"I need his help."
"You seek the aid of the most notorious god in existence? If he is displeased with your request, thou knowest he shall smite thee."
Frey transferred the book to his other hand. Thoth's gaze followed, his face paling. "Our sister was attacked, I need his held to find the monster who did it and destroy him."
"Our sister?"
"Freyja."
Thoth's brow furrowed. "Freyja. I have heard that name of late... She has given up the ghost?"
"No," Frey growled. "She was raped."
"Raped?"
"Yes!" Frey was tempted to stomp on this book and pull another from the shelf, but he knew that Thoth loved these books more than anything else. The threat was already making sweat run down his older brother's face. "Freyja was raped, I need to find out who did it."
Thoth's brow furrowed, as though he was searching his brain. "I have heard... Oh." The confusion cleared on his face and he abruptly turned away. "I have not any way of reaching Atum."
Frey studied the hunch of his brother's back. "You know who did it."
"No."
"You know!" Frey couldn't believe it. "Who?"
"I know not!"
Frey threw the book onto the floor. "WHO?"
Thoth cried out as though physically wounded as Frey stomped on the book. The spine cracked. He swept an arm's length of books off the shelf and began kicking them around.
"Who was it, Thoth? And why won't anybody tell me? Why won't anybody call Atum and-"
"Atum hath left the Nine Realms! Please! Do not deface my books!"
Frey stopped. "What?"
"Atum is gone. He hath passed beyond communication's reach. Only Mother could recall him now, and she hast very valid reasons for wanting his exile to stay at this time."
"What reasons?"
Thoth tenderly picked a broken book from the floor. "Oh, my child! What hast that cruel, unyielding boot done to thee?"
"Thoth!"
"This man you seek, the man who caused your sister pain..."
"Who is he?" Frey demanded.
"He is dangerous."
"That's why I need Atum."
"He is dangerous to Atum."
Frey's brow furrowed. "What?"
Thoth gingerly collected the damaged books, tears streaking down his face. "As I say, young brother. If Atum attempts to slay the man who defiled your twin, the prospect of his death, at the very least the unleashing of Demogorge, is nigh guaranteed."
"But there is nobody in the universe more powerful than Atum!" Frey argued. "Unless... Was it one of our uncles? Chthon or Set?"
"Nay, boy. There are far more dangers in this universe we reside in than you realise."
Frey looked at the torn pages beneath his feet. "But... What can I do?"
"Do? Nothing," Thoth replied, setting his books on his desk. "All that thou canst do is nothing, and live. What is most precious to your sister, thinkest thou? Revenge or your life?"
"I'm sorry about this," Frey muttered, bending to help gather the ruined books.
"Thou wert distraught. I shall endeavour to forgive you," Thoth replied. "So long as thou leavest this moment. Go home, brother Frey."
Frey turned with stooped shoulders and a heavy heart. If even Atum couldn't help... who could? Perhaps he should do as he had been counselled, and give up the search... At least for now.