Chapter Twenty-One

"Well, this is a shame," the black-haired man smiled pleasantly at Atum as the sun-god entered the near-empty tavern. "I had hoped that you wouldn't arrive for another few days. I have grown rather fond of this host. Care for a drink?"

Atum had no interest in conversing with his uncle and drew his blade.

Set sighed exaggeratedly. "Come now, nephew. We both know that killing this body will do nothing to harm me and that you really have nowhere else to go. What harm is there is one drink and a brief chat with your favourite uncle?"

"Plenty," Atum said, but sheathed his blade again and sat down at the bar next to Set. He took the tankard of ale and downed it.

Set's brows furrowed. "If I had known you would accept, I would have poisoned that. Try to be a little more predictable next time, there's a good lad."

"Oshtur was right. This drink is horrid," Atum frowned into his tankard, and then reached across the bar to grab a bottle to refill it.

"You really are that lonely, are you?"

"What do you mean?"

Set took a drink from his own tankard. "Usually you would be out the door already, leaving a trail of bodies behind. You must be desperate for company if you are talking with me."

"Like you said, I'd only be killing the host."

"Yes. The host. I always enjoy the little stories that my hosts have. A wife and three children dependant on him, a man waiting back home for her, a sickly parent, or a papa that drinks too much. They are so fascinating, these little lives. Almost makes you wonder what it would be like, to be them, to live in the blink of an eye and think yourself the centre of the universe." Set took another drink. "Have you ever considered that?"

"No."

"Hmmm. Shame. I think you would make a ravishing barmaid." Set laughed at Atum's annoyed expression. "Let's face it, nephew. You and I are not as different as either one would like to believe, are we?"

"I am nothing like you."

"Why is that, then?" Set raised his brows. "You are bent on destroying me, my brother and his children, I am bent on destroying Gaea and all her children. You and I could make quite a team."

Atum laughed humourlessly. "Yes, it would be helpful to me if you would just kill yourself."

"And it would be helpful to me if you did the same." Set grinned and slapped Atum on the back. "How about we make a deal; if you kill yourself, I will kill myself."

Perhaps Set had put something in his drink, because Atum didn't feel like chopping off his head like he normally did. He held up his tankard. "Drink on it."

They clinked their mugs together and then both drank as much as they could in one breath. The tankards came back down to the bar counter with a heavy thud. Set sighed in satisfaction.

"Shame about this host, really. He has just sensitive taste buds. It has been a delight eating and drinking with him. The last old hag I possessed had absolutely no taste at all. I ate mud once by accident and thought it was overcooked chicken." Set laughed.

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Plenty. I did not expect you for another three days." Set grinned at his nephew. "So tell me. How is dear, sweet Gaea these days?"

Atum did not respond, his heart growing heavy. It had been thirteen years since he had last seen his mother. He missed her so terribly it was a physical ache. But there was nothing he could do about it, nothing he could say that she could ever possibly listen to.

"Still not talking to her, huh? That is most unusual. I do not suppose you have finally come to see her as the traitorous wench she is? No?" Set shrugged. "Very well, then. Keep clinging to your mother, even after she's left you behind..."

Atum's hairless brow rose as he saw Set's face darken. If he was honest with himself, the flash of pain that shone briefly in his uncle's eyes intrigued him. He ignored Set's words. They were similar enough to Chthon's, and Atum had learned how to block them out quite successfully. Insulting Gaea was part of the game with his uncles.

"Well, then. Enough of this soul-bearing," Set finished his tankard. "Shall we go outside? Wouldn't want to startle the young lovers over there."

Atum glanced briefly at the couple in the corner; they looked old enough to be dead in their seats and probably couldn't see a thing that was going on around them. A young barmaid sat with them, though, shooting nervous glances at the sun-god and his uncle.

"I think she likes you," Set whispered to Atum. "After you are done with your work, you should talk with her. She's called Erin. I have, ahem, chatted with her from time to time in this body. She is very friendly, for a price. Wants to earn enough money to send her young son to the city to be with her older sister. Get him a fine education, a decent chance in life and all that." Set pushed himself away from the bar. "Yes, I will miss this host. We have had some good times. He fought me at first..."

Atum clamped a heavy hand on his uncle's shoulder and forcefully began pushing him out of the tavern.

"No need to be so rough! I am walking, am I not? But anyway, this host. Graham, his name is. He put up a very good fight for quite a while. I had to kill his youngest child to get him to cooperate. He has four still living, and a pretty little wife no doubt still waiting for him to return to her. Pity... I should have liked to let him say goodbye."

Atum propelled Set into a nearby wooded area as he talked. The snake didn't offer any resistance. The sun-god drew his weapon, expecting some sort of assault. This was far too easy, although sometimes Set was like that.

"Do you enjoy watching your hosts die, that you do not fight back?" Atum asked him, genuinely interested.

"Oh, I do not just watch them die, dear nephew. I die with them, for a time. I am surprised you did not know that." Set's brows furrowed. "I suppose I should not have said anything... But it is a most fascinating experience, death. You should try it sometime."

"I don't think so. What is Chthon planning?"

"How am I to know? He does not tell me his plans, I merely obey his will like the slave I am. Oh, dear me." Set laughed lightly. "It appears that Graham cannot handle alcohol... Wonder why I have not noticed this before?"

Atum stopped in a nicely shrouded area. He stood behind Set and put the tip of his blade against his spine; one smooth upward motion to puncture heart and lungs, and the blade would curve back through the neck and into the brain.

"One last thing before I go," Set said, not moving, not bothering to try to defend his host's body. "The last time we talked, you seemed more than willing to let me kill you before dear Oshtur intervened. Why?"

"As if I would answer that," Atum replied, driving the sword upwards.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Gaea checked on her sleeping son and smiled to see him wrapped up in his blankets like a caterpillar in a cocoon. Just like when he was a child. He must have been driven to exhaustion on Asgard; he slept nearly day and night here.

The smile slipped off her face as she thought of her eldest, whom she had not heard from or seen in thirteen years. Not knowing why he had done what he did still caused her to weep bitterly, but she was convinced that he had not acted by his own desire. Somehow Chthon had caused this! Somehow... but how? And why?

She shivered to think that Chthon could have planned this the same way he had planned Atum's birth. What if he had planned Sigyn? Atum, an Elder god, Freyja half an elder god. There could hardly be a more powerful combination, unless Chthon was to go after Gaea herself again!

Atum? Please answer me!

Nothing. Gaea withdrew from the ether, afraid of what else she might find there, what other ears might be listening. She slipped from the cave and turned her mind to her youngest son. She had not seen Thor for nearly as long as Atum. Would he even remember her if they saw each other again?

She didn't know. True to her word, she had stayed away from her precious child. It didn't make it hurt any less to know from her careful probing that Frigga was a devoted mother and that Thor was growing up strong and healthy. She reached out again, this time towards Thor. Her connection to him wasn't as strong as it should be, but she could still give him a song and a message.

I love you, my son.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"It's been too long," Ve murmured, running his fingers through Freyja's hair as they lay tangled and panting together.

"I'd forgotten how skilled you can be," Freyja replied. She pushed herself up on her elbows and smiled at her husband in her ex-lover's body. It was strange... She wasn't entirely certain if she could see Ve fully this time.

"It has been forty-three years..." Ve smiled and kissed her forehead. "Now... you were saying something?"

"Was I?"

"Something about Sigyn."

"Right. Am I being unreasonable? By not letting her learn magic?"

"Why don't you want her to learn magic?"

Freyja was silent for a moment. She shifted so her head was lying on Ve's shoulder, and she was staring through the canopy of their bed. "I'm afraid. If she learns how to use magic, and he finds out. What if he takes her away from me? What if he turns her into some sort of killing machine like he is? I can't protect her from him..."

Ve didn't need to ask who she was talking about. "Could he really sense her magic?"

"I don't know. But even if she doesn't use it, if he shows up again he might realise that she was conceived that night."

Ve kissed her strawberry-blonde hair. "Freyja, from what you've told me Sigyn loves magic just as much as she has talent for it. She's going to find a way to learn it anyway. The only question is whether she will think of you fondly or angrily as she learns it."

"That's not what I wanted to hear."

"I'm sure it's not. But it's what you need to hear. Isn't it?"

Freyja was silent.

"Are you angry with me now?"

"Maybe," she muttered. "Maybe not."

Ve gently shifted her so he could sit up. "If you didn't want the answer, you shouldn't have asked. And it's what I have been telling you for years. Just let her learn magic, Freyja. She has his power whether you let her learn how to control it or not."

Freyja sat up as well and hung her head in her hands. "I've been having terrible nightmares lately."

Ve stroked her hair.

"And this is the first time in a long time I've really enjoyed this. I don't know what's wrong with me, Ve. Maybe I should take a vow of celibacy."

Ve chuckled. "That would certainly raise a few brows!"

"I'm just so unsatisfied with life right now. Something is missing."

Ve kissed her shoulder. "A friend, perhaps?"

"I'm not becoming involved with Tyr again, and if that's why you wanted him-"

"I said friend. You have lovers aplenty."

Freyja shrugged. She twined her hand in with his and gave him a little smile. "Do you want to keep talking?"

"Do you have something else in mind?" Ve smiled as Freyja leaned forward and pressed a long, slow kiss to his lips. He sighed into her mouth. "I love you."

"I love you too..."

Freyja straddled him. Amid their gasps and groans they passionately kissed, wanting every touch they could possibly have. Their movements were desperate, both needing fulfilment, both knowing that they would never have enough time with each other. Eventually Ve laid Freyja down on her back, arms around her tightly, face buried in her neck. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

"I love you," she gasped. "Ve? I love you!"

There was a long groan answering her, and suddenly he went still. She dug her fingers into his hair.

"Ve? Ve, what's wrong?"

He pushed himself up; the amulet stayed on her chest. Freyja's eyes widened as she stared into Tyr's eyes. His expression was a mix of surprise and confusion. Freyja froze, her arms and legs still around him, their eyes locked together. His face was close enough that she felt his breath on her cheeks.

"We lost track of time," Freyja murmured. "I thought we had hours left..."

Tyr swallowed heavily and began to move away; Freyja bit back a moan. He stopped, panting, fighting his desire, searching her eyes. Slowly, very, very slowly, he moved closer.

"Wait," Freyja breathed. She clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder, trying to think. His smell was intoxicating.

"We shouldn't," Tyr murmured huskily.

"No, we shouldn't. But-" How can I be thinking about this? Ve just left me! Tears filled Freyja's eyes. Her body was begging her to continue.

"We shouldn't," Tyr murmured again, tightening his grip regardless.

"Tyr," Freyja moaned. "Tyr, if we do this-"

Tyr kissed her throat. "I'm sorry. I'll leave."

Freyja just held him tighter, warring between her body and mind. I want this, and so does he! But would it mean something, if they did? Or would it mean nothing?

"Freyja," Tyr murmured. "Freyja, let me go or keep me forever."

"I can't."

"Can't what?"

With difficulty, Freyja unwrapped her arms and legs from around him. Disappoint came into his eyes, but he pulled away from her and stood. Freyja lay still, gasping, still fighting to control herself. Tyr reached for his tunic.

"Tyr."

He looked at her.

"This is the last time."

His brows knit.

"If you choose to host Ve in the future, I'll not ask your permission to be intimate with him. We've managed for years without it. And I've lost too much time I should have spent talking to him." Freyja swallowed hard. "This is also the last time that I will ever be alone with you."

"I thought we agreed that we would talk sometime..."

"I can't."

"Can't what?"

"Risk it."

"Risk what? Loving me?"

Freyja pressed her palms to her eyes. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

"What do you want from me?" she demanded angrily. "You had your explanation. And I..." Freyja dropped her gaze. "I didn't expect it to change anything. I still don't. So you tell me what you want. Tell me!"

Tyr's brow furrowed. He dropped his tunic and went back to her, pushing her down, laying on top of her. She knotted her fingers into his hair.

"I want to forget you. Forget the way you made me feel when you smiled at me. Forget the way my heart skips a beat every time I see you. Forget the way you smell, the way you laugh. I want to erase you from my mind! I want you to stop tormenting me!"

A tear ran down Freyja's cheek. "You deserve someone better than me."

"And you deserve better than what you've given yourself."

"One last time?"

"One last time and I'll never speak with you again."

"Even if we don't have one last time, I am never speaking with you again."

Tyr lowered his forehead to hers. "Then we should make it good, shouldn't we?"

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Is Uncle Frey coming back soon?" Sigyn asked as Freyja tucked her into bed.

"I don't know, sweetheart. All he said was that he was going to visit Gaea for a while." He had been gone for nearly a month, and it had been three weeks since Ve's day.

"I wish he would come back," Sigyn sighed.

"So do I." Freyja kissed Sigyn's forehead. Honestly, Freyja thought that her daughter at thirteen was getting too old for this nighttime routine. All of the other girls had stopped asking to be tucked in around eleven. Sigyn, however, seemed to crave extra comfort. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mor."

Freyja quietly left Sigyn's room, shutting the door behind her. She headed downstairs, hoping to catch Syn before she left. She sighed when she realised that Syn was already gone, resolving to talk to her in the morning.

The other two triplets had already retired for the night, so Freyja seemed to have an evening to herself... which would have been fine, if being alone didn't usually cause the memories to resurface.

Shaking her head, she went to the pantry to fetch a bottle of wine. If nothing else, she would relax! She loosened her gown a little and stretched her legs out. Her abdomen and legs were feeling unnaturally cramped. That combined with the fact that her breasts were more sensitive than usual made her very uncomfortable.

Freyja paused before she could take a sip of wine. She lowered her glass. She had been feeling sick lately, too. And... She put the wine aside. She had missed her last cycle...

Muffled shouts carried on the wind came to her through the open window jarred her from her thoughts. It was a male voice. Freyja tensed instinctively. She went to the window quickly, peering through the curtains to see who it was and make sure that whoever this was meant her and her daughters no harm.

The bedraggled figure came into view, walking in a ridiculously swaying pattern, and Freyja bit back a curse. Njord. Drunk again. Another heavy sigh escaped her as she knew she'd have to bring him inside to sober up, as she used to on Vanaheim, years ago. She slipped out the door quietly, hoping the girls wouldn't wake.

Njord seemed hardly able to stand upright as she approached. He was looking around as though he'd lost something.

"Frey! Where are y', y' worthlesh..."

"Father," Freyja took hold of her father firmly.

"Worthlesh! Shon of poshe." Njord leaned heavily on her and she put an arm under his shoulders so she could better support him. She practically dragged him into the house.

"Why doesn't Odin have guards to keep you in the palace when you're drunk?" Freyja complained.

"Jord," Njord muttered. "Owe m' new shon."

Freyja rolled her eyes as Njord went on angry, intelligible mutterings of Frey's faults. She would put him on the sofa and hope that he would fall asleep quickly. If not, well, a jug of water over his head usually helped somewhat. She pulled him into the parlour and dumped him unceremoniously onto the sofa.

"Jord, shon y' gave m' worthlesh."

"Oh, so now I'm Mother," Freyja muttered. "That's new. Father," she said, louder, "you need to just lie down and go to sleep."

Njord blinked at her. "New shon."

"I'll get you one in the morning."

Njord grabbed her wrists. "Now."

Freyja tried to pull herself away.

"Now, Jord! New shon!"

"Father-"

Njord jerked her forward so sharply that she fell on top of him. He grabbed her hard around the waist and twisted his body, rolling over. They fell onto the floor, Njord pinning her to the ground.

"Father!"

"Jord," he murmured. "Beau'y Jord."

"Father, it's Freyja, Mother isn't here!" Freyja exclaimed, her heart racing. She pushed at Njord's face as it came closer, his breath stinking behind puckered lips. She would scream this time! She wouldn't let it happen again! But what if the girls see? Freyja twisted her head, struggling to get Njord off her. "Father! Stop!"

Njord's eyes attempted to focus. "Freyja?"

"Yes. Freyja!"

"Your bro'er worthlesh."

"Get off me!"

Njord pushed himself up to his hands and knees. Freyja took the opportunity to land a solid punch to his throat and scramble away from him. Njord's hands went to his throat, and he gasped. Freyja got to her feet, standing hesitantly. If she had punched too hard... Njord was her father!

"Father? Are you alright? Can you breathe?"

"Somne hit m' throat," he gasped. "Worthlesh shon! Freyja? Where's your bro'er?"

Freyja smoothed down her dress, attempting to calm herself. He had thought she was Jord but it was over. He was back to his senses. She swallowed and turned away to fetch a jug of water from the icebox. By the time she had returned, Njord was snoring on the floor.

For a long time, Freyja wasn't sure what she should do. She couldn't just leave her father on the floor, could she? The way he was lying, he could drown in his own vomit. But she didn't want to go near him, not after what had just happened... It was nothing. A mistake that could have easily been resolved without physical violence.

Freyja hefted her father onto the sofa again, arranging him so that he could breathe properly.

"Well, there goes my relaxing evening," she huffed, putting the jug back into the icebox.

She checked on Njord again. He was well and truly passed out, so she dimmed the lamp before she settled in her chair. With Njord in the house, she would stay up until Syn came home. She wasn't going to let her father catch her daughter coming back from wherever she had been in the early hours of morning. Njord would probably shout loud enough to wake the whole city!

Besides, she wanted him out of her house as soon as he could walk in a straight line.

Freyja contemplated her wine and poured it back into the bottle. If I'm pregnant, she thought, I shouldn't be drinking.