Chapter Nineteen
Warning: Fairly mature sexual content/discussions in this chapter.
"Mor, come see this!"
Freyja sighed as she pulled a shawl over her shoulders and went out to the snowy garden to see what Sigyn was shouting about. The six-year-old was standing next to a snowman, fur-lined blue cape thrown back over her shoulders, hood fallen off of her head, golden braid draped over her shoulders. A flush of cold and excitement was in her normally-pale cheeks, and her sapphire eyes sparkled. Freyja screamed. Sigyn's hands were on fire.
"Look what I can do, Mor!" Sigyn concentrated, and the flame ran up along her arms. Her cape caught fire and Freyja screamed again.
"Sigyn!" she cried, starting to rush forward. Thick, hot arms caught around her middle. Hard, hot lips crushed against her neck. Atum. He began fondling her as she tried to escape him. Sigyn laughed, her braid catching fire. Freyja tried to scream at her to roll in the snow, but her voice was silent.
"So, you've borne me a child," Atum mocked., tearing her gown off.
"No, she's mine!"
"Mine," Atum growled, flinging her body into the snow. "She is mine and you are mine. Open your legs for me, sister." Freyja shook her head soundlessly, sobbing. Atum flung away his own clothing. He kicked apart her legs and fell atop her.
"Sigyn, come see how you were conceived!" he called out. The girl obeyed, watching with interest. The flame was consuming her now, her skin blistering and flaking away, revealing charred, burnt-black flesh. Atum held Freyja down, groaning in pleasure. The flames devouring Sigyn cracked and hissed. And Freyja heard Chthon laughing.
Freyja threw both hands over her mouth to smother her scream as she woke. Her heart pounded and her skin was slick with sweat. She was naked; her back pressed against a man's naked body. She flung herself out of bed, a strangled scream tearing from her throat.
"Wha-?" Brokk startled out of sleep. He sat up, yawning. "Freyja? What's wrong?"
Freyja willed herself to calm. She crawled back into the bed, though she kept herself from the dwarf. She half-sat, leaning against the headboard.
"Just a bad dream."
"You have been having a lot of bad dreams of late." Brokk sat up. "Anything I can do to help?" Freyja shuddered as she remembered the dream. Why had he done it?
"What time is it?" Brokk glanced at the window.
"Dawn, I would say. Time enough for more sleep... or sport." The dwarf ran his fingers through her hair, and Freyja let him. In the thirteen years since Sigyn's birth, the fire-red had faded to strawberry-blonde, but she had given up hope that it would ever be golden again. Brokk started to kiss her shoulders, his beard tickling her skin. Freyja tangled her fingers in his relatively short hair before pushing him away. It helped, sometimes, after a nightmare to engage in physical intimacy at once. Other times it just made it worse.
"I would prefer to think at the moment." Brokk sat back with a disappointed sigh.
"Sigyn is thirteen."
"Are you ready for another child?"
"Perhaps." Brokk pulled the blankets down. His eyes roved over her. Freyja covered herself again.
"It makes a lady feel valued when her mate will not listen to her," she said, albeit with a teasing tone.
"I did not sire your youngest, nor did my brother. We have no interest in the girls that we did sire, why should we care about this one?" Freyja rolled her eyes but didn't leave. Her dream came back to her and she shuddered. After thirteen years! She knew now it would never go away, but after thirteen years she had hoped... Her nightmares still happened, though, and with disturbing frequency.
"Lady Eir approached me the other day, asking to apprentice Sigyn." Brokk ignored her words. His rapid breath stirred warm desire in Freyja's body. Dream or no dream, she was having what she wanted. She flung the blankets off and lay down. "Amuse yourself," she ordered. Brokk did not need any more prompting. As he began, Freyja had to repress a shudder. Of late she was having to throw herself into the role of lover, rather than slip comfortably into it. She hadn't had sex she truly enjoyed as herself since Tyr- Stop, she told herself, and grabbed one of Brokk's hands, guiding it.
"You are insatiable," she growled at him.
"I so rarely get to see you these days."
"My Sigyn," Freyja murmured, tracing a pattern over Brokk's strong shoulders. "She is talented with magic."
"She would have to be, if that battleaxe Eir has asked to train her. Normally a family has to beg her for the privilege. I heard she wanted to train Prince Loki – a cunning, tricky demon that one!" Brokk moved so he was poised over her. "If I had my way, I'd sew his lying lips shut!"
"He's only thirteen."
"Then he had best learn to watch his mouth."
"Your lips, here," Freyja ordered, pointing, and Brokk happily obeyed, his mouth caressing her soft skin. Freyja giggled as his beard tickled her.
"Sigyn won't be learning magic."
"Why's that?"
"She doesn't need it. Deception and trickery is what it is. I know she has talent, but she's had enough training to suppress it, and that's all she needs to know."
Brokk guided himself into her, before huffing out an irritated breath and withdrawing.
"What's wrong, my dwarf lover?"
"You're not ready yet."
"So? Go ahead and take me."
Brokk shook his head, trying to arouse her further, beginning to nibble at her collarbone. "You don't like that." His mouth moved back down. "Why don't you want Sigyn learning magic?"
"Because it's deception and trickery."
"Isn't everything?" Freyja let out an exaggerated groan. Brokk chuckled, using his fingers to tease her.
"We have coupled enough so that I know when you are avoiding answering a question," he said, his free hand caressing her face and neck.
"Have I ever told you how extraordinarily large fingers you have?"
"Many times." Brokk groaned, entering her and pressing his hips flush against hers. "Have I ever told you how amazing you still feel, after eight babies?"
Freyja pressed her palms to his shoulders, digging her fingers into his hard skin. She pulled him down slightly, so their chests were almost touching. "You've only known me through seven babies."
"And you are as tight as a virgin on her wedding night."
"I am fortunate to have a mother who is most adept at healing." Brokk's thrusts continued, and Freyja moved so she could grab the headrest to prevent striking her head against it. Brokk put his mouth against hers, but not quite as a kiss. His gaze turned unfocused; he could be a stallion on a mare.
"Talk to me," Freyja ordered.
"Your Sigyn."
"Now is hardly time to discuss my daughter!"
"One of my friends has a boy that age," Brokk grunted. Freyja pushed at him. It took him a moment to realise that it was not in passion, and with a groan he stopped.
"What are you suggesting?" Freyja hissed.
"You have said in the past that Sigyn does not have many friends. I thought that perhaps-"
"Your dwarf girls and boys are encouraged to begin coupling with each other at the age of thirteen."
"Opening the girls helps their monthly blood flow easier," Brokk replied, brow furrowing. "It's only fair that boys learn of pleasure at the same age."
"Get off me."
"Freyja-"
"Get off me!"
Brokk reluctantly rolled off. "I understand that your customs are different than ours, I was not suggesting that your girl break her virginity."
"What else were you suggesting?" Freyja rolled out of bed and began searching the mess on the floor for her clothes. "Thirteen is too young to deal with the emotional consequences."
"I am not sure the boy even wants to couple with girls."
"Forgive me if I do not trust your judgement."
"Freyja, please!"
"The last thing I want my daughter to do is spend time with a lust-filled dwarf boy!"
Silence met her words. She found her stockings; they were torn.
"Six of your eight daughters are half-dwarf."
"You ripped my gown!"
"I am just a lust-filled dwarf to you." Brokk's voice was angry.
Freyja stopped searching for her clothes. "There is a difference between my choices with you and a thirteen-year-old girl who has no experience with flattery."
"I disgust you."
Freyja groaned, rolling her eyes. "If you did, why would I keep coming back?"
"If you didn't, why would you keep me a secret?"
"You are hardly a secret. You are just angry because I turned down your proposal again. I have told you dozens of times, I am never marrying again." Freyja searched for her under-dress and found a heap of silk instead. "Terrific!"
"Freyja-" He grabbed her arm.
She pulled away. "I told you, never do that!"
Brokk backed away, hands in the air. "Can we be together again, quickly, before you leave?"
"I am angry with you!"
"I like it when you're angry."
Freyja tapped her foot, considering. "Fine," she practically spat, going back to the bed. "I'm on top. Do you want bruises?"
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
"Mor! Mor!"
Frey stumbled down the hallway, rubbing his eyes, passed the triplet's room to Sigyn's. "Sigyn?" He opened the door to see his thirteen-year-old niece wrapped up tight in her blankets, trying to free herself with thrashing but only entangling herself more.
"Mor!"
"Sigyn, wake up." He shook her shoulders gently. Her face was tear-stained and she continued to thrash about, calling for her mother. "Wake up, Sigs."
Sigyn opened her eyes, shuddering with sobs. "Uncle Frey? Where's Modir?"
"Freyja's out tonight. I know she was hoping to get back before you woke." Sigyn wiped her eyes, sitting up. "Are you alright?" Frey caressed her blonde hair gently.
"I had a bad dream, Uncle," Sigyn leaned against him, cuddling against his chest. As he did increasingly lately, Frey wished that he had children of his own. He wanted to be called 'Da' and be able to come home after guard duty to a wife who would kiss him and children that would clamour to greet him. His house seemed so empty lately.
"What happened?"
"I dreamed that there was a shadow, and it was trying to kill me. I was so scared... But it's just a dream and it's over now." Sigyn pulled herself back up, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry for waking you. I hope I didn't wake any of my sisters."
"I'm sure you didn't," Frey reassured her. "You have been having an awful lot of bad dreams lately."
"I have an overactive imagination," Sigyn replied promptly. "I had better get back to sleep. I have dancing with Idunn in the morning." Frey kissed his niece's forehead.
"You're sure you're alright?"
"Yes, thank you." Sigyn yawned as she laid back down, straightening her blankets. "I hope that my lessons will be at the palace. I've seen the princes a few times. I should like to meet them."
Frey forced a smile, remembering how close Freyja and Frigga had once been, and how that closeness had never been able to be repaired. If only... "I'm sure you will some day. Sleep well." Sigyn nodded and laid back down. Frey tucked the blankets up to her chin and returned to the hallway.
He closed Sigyn's door softly and sighed heavily. Freyja relied on him so much! Too much, he thought sometimes. She always seemed to think that he was available to do anything she wanted him to do. Which usually he was, but that wasn't always going to be the case. As he returned to the guest room, he noticed that Syn's door was slightly open. Of Freyja's eight daughters, only the triplets and Sigyn remained. Hnossa lived on Vanaheim (where Frey never visited; since his attack on Njord thirteen years ago, he had never felt any need to return to his birthplace. Or see his father.) Idunn and Bragi lived in Freyja's old house, Lofn had married and moved to Alfheim, and Var was staying in Freyja's palace quarters until she could afford a place of her own.
The triplets were approaching their nineteenth birthday; soon they would be leaving as well. And then it would just be Freyja and Sigyn in the huge house, all alone. Frey pushed aside his concerns for his twin's future and knocked on Syn's door. After a moment, Syn answered. Her hair was a ruffled mess, makeup was smeared over her face, and instead of a nightdress, she was wearing the dress she had worn the previous day. It was askew. Frey had seen Freyja in this state enough times to realise what it meant.
"You just got home," Frey said severely.
"Don't look at me like that," Syn replied hotly. "I'm only doing exactly what Mother is off doing."
Frey grimaced at the smell of her breath. "Your mother doesn't drink a whole keg of ale in one sitting."
"It wasn't a keg. I just wanted to have some fun."
Frey ran his hand through his hair. What was he supposed to say? He wasn't Syn's father, only her uncle. He had to say something but how much was he allowed to say? "Does your mother know that you sneak off at night?"
"Yes."
Frey arched a blond brow.
"She does!" Syn said hotly. "I told her. That's one thing she's always drilled into us, that we always tell her where we're going and what we're doing."
"What about tonight?"
"Last night you mean."
"Syn."
"I thought you'd give me a lecture about staying a pure virgin until my wedding night," Syn muttered. "But I haven't been a virgin for a year."
Frey rubbed his eyes. "I will be telling Freyja when she gets home."
"Go ahead, I'll be telling her too. She doesn't like it when I drink, though, so could you leave that out?"
"I will not be leaving it out."
Syn shrugged. "Alright. Do whatever you need to do. But I'm tired, I'm going to bed. Night, Uncle Frey."
"Night." Frey's brow was furrowed as he made his way back to his room. Did he handle that right? Once back in his room, he flopped down in the bed and tried to go back to sleep. But sleep didn't come. His mind was too full. "Maybe I should go visit Midgard for a few weeks, or months," he muttered. "Talking with Mother would do me good. There's too much to think about."
A loud scream came down the hallway. Sigyn again. Frey groaned and dragged himself out of bed to go calm her from her nightmare. This was happening far too often. Freyja needed to see somebody about Sigyn's nightmares. Maybe if she had an outlet for her magic... But Frey knew that suggestion that would have an unpleasant reception. What does Freyja have against magic? he wondered. She never used to.
"Mor! Mor! Watch out!" Frey entered Sigyn's room again, but this time she was sobbing so hard that she woke herself up. As soon as she saw Frey she threw off her blankets and ran to him, throwing her arms around him, sobbing.
"Shhh, it was just a dream."
"It feels so real."
Frey knelt and wiped Sigyn's face. "I know, dreams can be really frightening sometimes."
"I'm too old for nightmares."
"I have nightmares sometimes."
Sigyn leaned into Frey's arms. "Uncle Frey?"
"Yes, Sigs?"
"Will you sit in the chair while I sleep? I don't like being alone."
"Wouldn't you rather have one of your sisters sit with you?"
Sigyn shook her head. "They laugh at me."
Frey sighed and nodded. "I'll sit with you. Would you like me to read something?"
Sigyn nodded. She crawled back into her bed as Frey selected a book and sat down in the nearby rocking chair. Syn came to Sigyn's door and stood there for a little while as Frey read aloud. She came in and lay down at the end of Sigyn's bed.
"Syn?" Sigyn muttered.
"Go to sleep. I just want to listen to the story."
"Why don't you read it and I can go get some sleep?" Frey suggested.
"No," both girls said.
"You read," Syn said, laying her head down. "It's been so long since Mor read to us..."
Frey shrugged and started to read. Within moments, both girls were asleep. Frey found an extra blanket to spread over Syn, and then quietly made his retreat. They'd be alright. He wished he could say the same for Freyja. Lately she seemed to be in such a destructive cycle... But she never listened to him, so why bother worrying? I will go see Mother as soon as I can, he thought. We have a lot to talk about.