"What did you do?" Ben's question quivers as violently as the gun in his hand. "What have you done?"

Ben is very slowly making his way from one side of the house to the other, never taking his aim or his eyes off me. He asks me questions, but I can't keep track of what he's saying. Instead, I silently watch as he pulls a phone off the hook, dials a number with his free hand, picks up the receiver, and starts speaking nonsense.

I'm still standing near the front door when Jane bursts in, shouting obscenities and pointing a shotgun at me.

I'm thirsty. Ignoring the both of them, I walk over to the sink and get a glass of water from the tap. It's only after I've downed the water that I tune back in and catch the end of their conversation. "Oh, no, don't worry," I announce with a smile. "It's not my blood."

Jane looks like a weird mixture of nauseous and wanting to cry. "What did you do with her body?"

Her body? "Who?"

"Alex," Jane snarles.

"Ohhh." A small laugh escapes me. "No, this isn't hers either. She's fine. She's still on Hydra."

"That's a lie," Ben interjects. "She sent me a raven hours ago that she was heading home."

"If that's not your blood," Jane asks, "and it's not Alex's blood, then whose blood is it?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I never met him before."

Jane's expression never wavers. "What happened?"

"I don't know. He just attacked me."

"You were attacked?" Jane frowns so deeply it looks like her eyebrows are touching. "You honestly expect me to believe there was someone on this island stupid enough to attack you?"

"Believe me or not," I say, bored. "That's what happened. I can show you the body if you want."

"What were you doing when he attacked you?"

Her question catches me off guard, and I tilt my head slightly in confusion. "What was I doing?"

"Yes," she snaps, "what were you doing? Where did it happen? Where were you going? Why are you in your nightgown?"

My brain is completely blank, but for some reason, I don't care. Instead of answering her questions, I refill my glass with water.

"So, let me get this straight." Jane takes a few steps towards me, the barrel of her shotgun pointed at my head. "You went out for a walk, in the dark, in your nightgown. . . to do what, exactly?"

I finally feel something, and my eyes meet hers with a spark of outrage. "Someone just tried to kill me. Why are you asking me about my nightgown?"

"Because I don't believe a single word that comes out of your mouth." Jane's focus never leaves me as she addresses Ben. "Send a raven for Miles."

"What?" I perk up at this news. "What does Miles have to do with this?"

"Miles," Jane explains in a mocking tone, "will be able to tell us what really happened, since you seem so hell bent on lying to my face."

"I'm not lying." I roll my eyes. "We don't need Miles. I've already told you what happened."

"You haven't told us anything." Jane is so close, I could reach out and take a swipe at the shotgun, if I wanted to. "You've only been here, what, five weeks? Is this some kind of new record for you? Don't move," she yells when I turn to walk into the living room.

My words come out as a breathy sigh as I sink into the sofa. "If you're going to shoot me, then shoot me and get it over with."

A raven swoops in through an open window, cawing loudly, "Letter for Ben!"

Ben practically rips the paper in a one-handed haste to read it. He sinks into a kitchen chair as his aim wavers. Slowly, the handgun lowers to the table with a soft clink. He looks dizzy. "It's Alex," he announces softly. "She was delayed and is asking to stay on Hydra tonight."

Jane readjusts her gun, squinting at me in the faint kitchen lighting. "Send for Miles anyway."

Miles doesn't look happy to see me, and he definitely doesn't look happy to see me covered in blood. I hope Aiko is doing better. I want to ask, but I keep my mouth shut. Thinking about having that conversation makes me tired.

Miles finishes listening to the last memories of. . . whatever his name was. With a sharp intake of air, he turns to Jane and announces, "Cora's telling the truth. He attacked her unprovoked."

I smirk up at the surprised woman. "See?"

Miles makes a small motioning action with his fingers, and Ben steps away from me as the two walk a few steps away. I can't hear what they're saying, but Miles tells Ben something and the two of them look over at me.

I'm uncomfortable. It's difficult to breathe. It's cold. I don't want to be here.

I'm walking back to the Temple on autopilot. It's so strange to not have music playing in the background as I lose all sense of time. Hands on my upper arms stop me from moving forward, and I blink back into consciousness to see what's going on. It's Ben, standing in front of me, impeding my path.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"Back to the Temple. I need a bath."

"Alright, well. . ." Ben's thought dies on his lips as he glances behind me at Jane and Miles. "We actually need you to come back to the barracks for a little while."

Silence. My head is still silent as Ben explains what's going to happen from a legal standpoint. About how Jane is putting the entire community on lockdown until we can interview the survivors and figure out what's going on. That's who this man was. A survivor. A survivor who probably would have died if I didn't exist. But he did exist. How many other random monsters were on Oceanic 315? Are there any serial killers? How do I know the true motive of anyone not of the core cast?

There's kids on Hydra.

"What?" Ben still has a hold of my arms, but his grip is loose and gentle. "I'm sorry, I can't hear you."

"There's kids on Hydra," I continue to mumble. "I have to go back to Hydra."

A voice from behind me says, "You're not going back to Hydra, we need you to—"

"Jane," Ben hisses in warning. "Not now."

"Where's my shoe?" Why am I just now noticing I'm missing a shoe? "Has anyone seen my shoe? My satchel." I reach up and grab hold of one of Ben's hands, trying my best not to squeeze too hard. "I left my satchel at the Temple," I whisper. "I left Fenrir and Pumba at the Temple."

"Okay," Ben says evenly. "Alright, Cora. Don't worry. We'll go get them."

Someone in the courtyard is yelling, and as we get closer, I recognize who it is.

"What's going on?" I ask the nearest man. "Why is he tied to a stake?"

"Sorry, my lady, but he—" the man's apology gets sucked back in as he takes a look at me and steps away.

Right. I'm covered in blood.

Ben starts speaking to the man in Norse as I step closer to the screaming man in the center of the courtyard. "Sawyer?"

He's in the middle of a frothy rant when he sees me and adds, "Goddess or not, you women are all the same!"

"Yeah, because none of them want you!" A man yells from out of the crowd, and the surrounding men all roar with laughter.

I look around at the small group of men, expecting answers, but they carry on as if I'm not here. "Why is he tied up?"

"Safety concern," a norseman answers. "He keeps trying to fight the young ones."

I'm suddenly overwhelmed with rage as I spin towards Sawyer and scream, "You're fighting children?"

"No, no, my lady," the norseman explains. "The safety concern is for him."

"I don't need your damn coddling!" Sawyer thrashes and pulls at his restraints, but my people have done an excellent job of securing him. "You don't know me—"

"There's a note in your pocket addressed to a Sawyer," I interrupt, and the surrounding men all fall silent. "But you're not Sawyer. You were born James Ford. Sawyer's the pseudonym of the scumbag who convinced your mother to give him all your family's money."

Sawyer is silent for only a few dazed seconds before he tries to interrupt me, so I just keep talking louder and louder and louder until he stops.

"Your mom got conned out of the family's life savings, and your dad was so angry he shot her in the hallway, then he came into your bedroom and sat on your mattress and shot himself in the head, all while you were hiding under the bed. You've spent your life looking for the conman who stole your childhood and somewhere along the way you convinced yourself the best way to do that was to support your search by becoming the very thing that ruined your life." I step closer, secretly begging him not to speak because I don't know what I'll do if he interrupts me again. "You think I don't know who you are? You think I don't know what you've done? You think I don't know about Clementine? What exactly is it I don't know about you, hm, James?"

A curious crowd, roused from their rooms by my yelling, has congregated around the stake where Sawyer hangs limply.

"Oh, you know what? Actually, I am missing something." I swing back around, pointing an accusing finger at Sawyer's face. "You murdered an innocent man in Sydney. Someone you thought was the real Sawyer. But he wasn't. You want to know how I know that?" It's obvious that his furious expression betrays what he's actually feeling. He's angry and scared, but even more than that, he's sad. Still, knowing how much this is hurting him, I lean forward and taunt, "Because I know who the real Sawyer is. But I don't consort with assholes who pick fights with children!" I spot Michael in the ever-forming crowd and point furiously in his direction. "And why are you laughing? Don't even get me started on yourdumb ass!"

Men leap away from Michael as if I just announced he has the plague.

Adrenaline pumps hard and fast in my veins, and I'm honestly elated to be feeling anything at all. I point at Sawyer. "Cut him loose. If he wants to fight so bad, let him fight."

"Can I do it?" A young man I've yet to meet pushes through the crowd from down the hall. "Please dad?"

The second Sawyer is cut free, the young man approaches, only slightly taller than he is. It looks as if Sawyer is literally bouncing with energy, and when he swings, his fist makes contact with the boys face, but not much happens. In fact, the young man lets him take one more swing before grabbing Sawyer's shoulders and smashing their skulls together in a violent headbutt. Sawyer falls to the ground like a sack of bricks.

"Father, that didn't feel good," the young man complains, looking slightly sad. "It felt like fighting a child."

"Some men are like that, my boy."

Everyone looks disgusted and embarrassed by Sawyer's unconscious body. I think I'm supposed to feel sorry for him—I don't even know what had led to him being tied up—but I don't feel anything except pure rage.

"What?" I snarl as two men escort John Locke over to me. "Do I need to give you your life story, too?"

"No, ma'am," John answers, smiling sheepishly. "I was just wondering if you were the one I have to thank."

"For what?" I wait for him to formulate exactly what he wants to say, but he's taking too long. Besides, I already know what it is he's trying to ask. "Are you asking if I'm the reason you can walk again? I heal people, John. This is my island. Come to your own conclusions." I swipe at my nose and dried blood flakes off. "I'm happy your spine is healed, but just so you don't get your hopes up, I can't regrow your missing kidney. Sorry."

I'm surprised to hear him chuckle, but I'm too emotionally drained to try and deduce if it was genuine or not. "No," he continues, "that would be too much to ask. And I'm not asking."

All of the anger I was incapable of feeling about Alex misdirects itself towards John. "Then what do you want?"

"To finally thank you properly." I've gotten used to people bowing at me, but John's is different. It feels less fearful. He rights himself and nods once. "Thank you."

He turns to leave, but stops when I say, "I know what it is you want."

"What is it I want?"

"To belong to something. Something that isn't going to take advantage of you." I look up at him, and it's clear he's attempting to hide the intensity of his hopefulness. "As long as you don't try to undermine me," I add, "this place is exactly what you've been searching for."

His entire weathered face scrunches in confusion. "You're not going to send me back to LA?"

"Do you want to go back?" John shakes his head no, and I turn to walk to my room, waving a hand in Sawyer's general direction. "And would somebody clean him up?"

I do everything they say. I sit through their bullshit trial. I make my bullshit statement. I listen to their bullshit hearing.

Oh, wow, they're gonna let me go? Holy shit! I never saw that coming! It's the shock of the century that nobody wants to piss off an already pissed off goddess of war. A real turn of events, ladies and gentlemen.

Jane has ordered her most intimidating wolf—Eddard—to watch over me while I'm on the mainland. Gail hasn't left my side since the night I returned to the Temple. At first, she was a blessing and a comfort. But it's been a few days and I'm starting to become annoyed with everyone—including Gail. It's not even that she's done anything particularly annoying. It's just that I want to be alone, and with Gail being alone is truly impossible.

After the trial, I return to Hydra with the hope that life can return to normal. Most of the married men return with me on one of the larger ships, and I watch as they hurry to their homes to check on their wives and children, who have all been painted over with multiple runes in what I assume is some sort of protective spell.

From the way people stare at me as I make my way to the longhouse, it's obvious everyone knows what happened. So I do the only reasonable thing I can think of.

I lock myself in my room.

There's something I would like to show you. May I visit? —Ben

I've been staring at the piece of paper for what seems like hours, although I'm not actually sure how long its been. I waffle between: Yes, for the love of God I want to talk to another human being who isn't Gail and No, I never want to talk to anyone ever again, thanks.

I scribble, Okay.

Surely he must have just beaten some kind of record in the amount of time it takes him to paddle to Hydra and come knocking on my bedroom door. I peek my head out and ask if there's anyone else in the longhouse. Only after he assures me we're alone—and that Gail is watching the entrance—do I muster up the strength to leave my room and sit down at one of the nearby tables.

"Thank you for meeting with me." Ben flips open a backpack, pulling out a folder and shuffling through some documents. He eventually finds what he's looking for and holds out an old Polaroid, patiently waiting for me to take it. "I hope we can keep this between us," he says.

Eyebrows scrunched in confusion, I study the photo. "Who is this?"

"The boy on the left is Kyle." Ben opens his mouth to answer, but it's a few seconds before he admits, "The boy on the right is me."

I look from him back to the picture two or three times and snort. "Oh wow, this is you." It feels like I'm waking up after a long nap when a laugh bursts out of me. I feel fully awake for the first time in days.

"I'll take that back now."

"You will not." I scoot my chair backwards, away from the table and out of his range. "You made a big mistake giving this to me. I'm framing it."

"Funny." Ben frowns but makes no more attempts to take it away.

"How long did you grow out your hair?" I ask. "It's almost as long as mine."

"I only cut it after I retired from the team. Too much upkeep."

"Your beard is absolutely precious."

Ben huffs a laugh. "That one I disposed of much earlier."

"Lady Cora," Pris announces, stopping short to blink with surprise at the fact that Ben's here. "Gail wanted me to tell you Ana Lucia is requesting an audience."

I'm up and headed back to my bedroom before she can even finish her sentence. "No, sorry," I tell Pris. "I. . . I'll have to get back to her later. I'm . . . busy."

Ben is still seated at the table, so I wave for him to follow me. His eyes glance over at Pris—probably to check if she's going to start stabbing him with the nearest sharp object—but she does nothing but bow at my instructions and leave.

"Sorry." I hurry to shove a pile of dirty clothes off of the only chair in the room so he can sit down. My face warms as I take a look around and realize my bedroom is an absolute mess. "I would have cleaned if I knew you would be here so soon."

Ben closes my bedroom door behind him and tries not to make it obvious that he's cataloging the current state of destruction within. As I rush to finish tidying what I can, he walks over to my desk and thumbs through the Norse Handbook and Manual Desmond gave me from the hatch. "Anything useful in here?"

"Not so far." I readjust a mountain of pillows I'd propped up and finally take a seat on my mattress. "It's actually wildly inaccurate."

"You don't grant wishes to anyone who can best you in an arm wrestling match?" Ben looks over at me with a comedically disappointed expression. "You mean to tell me all that upper body training was for nothing? I'll need to burn half my reference library if you don't actually—" he pauses to read, his eyes squinting in disbelief as he brings the book up closer to his face. "—sustain yourself on a diet of acorns and mossy rocks. Who wrote this?"

It's nice to laugh after being too tired to do anything but sulk. As I watch him flip through the manual—lit only by the soft glow of what a few candles can provide—I'm suddenly intensely aware that we're completely alone for the first time since we were trapped in that cave.

A rush in my stomach slowly leeches out to my limbs until I'm almost as lightheaded as I was at my wedding. I've started dreaming about him almost every night, and the worst part is I can't talk to anyone about it. I'm not good enough friends with any of the women on Hydra, and I'm not exactly bitting at the bit to tell Gail about all of the embarrassing fantasies that leave me frustrated and sweaty when I wake up in the middle of the night.

And now he's here, alone with me. Not that it matters. I'm 45 million pathetic therapy sessions away from having the courage to do anything about it.

Ben flips another page and smooths it out. "Gail told me you haven't left your room in a while."

Ugh, of course Gail's involved in this. "And?"

He's just as quiet when he asks, "Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine, Ben."

I can see the gears working in Ben's head as he turns to look at me. His gaze moves to a candle on my desk, and finally he stares back down at the manual, thinking, his brows only slightly furrowed. When he's thought up a response, his voice is gentle and diplomatic. "I'm not sure that's true."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not crying."

"Oh, so you're mad at me when I cry and you're mad at me when I don't cry?"

"I'm not mad at you."

"I said I'm fine." It comes out way more hostile than I intend, so I make sure to smile when I add, "I'm just taking a break."

"For five days straight?"

"Listen, you don't wake up everyday to people waiting right outside your door to talk to you about all of their stupid little problems. Or a million kids trying to show you their crazy stunts, or crying uncontrollably over their dead pets. I'm exhausted. I'm beyond exhausted. I just. . . want some peace and quiet." I rub at my tired eyes and sigh, embarrassed at my outburst. "I'm sorry."

"Don't," he interrupts, quietly adding, "There's nothing you need to apologize for. Have you thought about talking to Harper?"

"I don't want to talk to Harper." I want to talk to you. "I wrote you a bunch of letters."

Ben looks up in surprise. "Oh?"

"I tossed them all in the fire, though." I don't even know why I'm telling him this. "I couldn't figure out the right way to apologize."

"For what?"

Like falling into a dream, the drowsiness returns. "I promised you I'd watch over Alex."

"But you did watch over Alex." Ben pulls the chair over until he's right next to my bed. "I don't understand what you feel the need to apologize for."

"I would have died if she wasn't there," I whisper. "He was killing me, and I couldn't even muster up the strength to push him off." It's suddenly freezing, and I wrap my arms over my chest in an attempt to keep warm. "I can't do this." It feels good to say it aloud for the first time. "I can't protect these kids. I can't even protect myself."

"You're still not giving yourself any credit." Ben's words are soft and calming and much more reassuring than the pep talks Gail's tried to give me. "You changed the course of the future to protect Alex. That's no small thing. And you continue to protect her by claiming responsibility for all this. You've saved her a lot of additional trauma within the courts."

"Is she going to be okay?" I ask. "She didn't seem okay the last time I saw her."

"Gail's on top of it. For obvious reasons, Alex can't talk to Harper about this, so I suppose Gail will have to do." Ben gives me a small smile. "Don't worry, I haven't blown your cover. Alex is unaware I know what really happened." It looks like there's more he wants to say, but he doesn't.

I want him to keep talking to me, so I hold up the vintage photo between my middle and index finger. "You sailed all the way over here just to show me this?"

"Well, no, not exactly. Today is the last rugby game of the season." Ben pauses, his eyes roaming my face before looking down and away. "I was wondering if you'd like to make an appearance. I will admit, it's an entirely selfish request, and it will once again indebt me to you."

I lean back into my pillow cocoon and sigh. "I'm really not in the mood for more ceremony—"

"No, no," he refutes gently. "You wouldn't have to do anything. I just think your presence will be a morale boost for the team. We're playing the Falcons," he explains. "I would love nothing more than for them to lose."

I'm not entirely sure I understand what's being asked of me. "My being an audience member will be a morale boost?"

Ben glances up at me, and his smile crinkles the ends of his eyes. "Full disclosure, but the boys actually asked if you would attend."

"Wouldn't my attendance be a morale boost for the other team as well?"

Ben bops his head from left to right, looking resigned. "Yes, but you're my wife, and I'm the co-captain." He chuckles lowly when I don't respond. "It seemed to make sense to them. But I understand if you're not feeling up to it. . ."

It hits me hard, deep within my chest, and I don't know why. A painful sadness washes over me at the thought of him leaving. The overwhelming feeling of abandonment is back. I try to force the ridiculous thought away, but it won't budge. If he were anyone else, I'd tell him to go away.

But I actually like talking to Ben, and if following him back to the mainland means I get to hear him refer to me as his wife more often, then to be perfectly honest with you, we can't leave soon enough.

"In the unfortunate possibility that we lose," Ben tells me on the walk to the Temple's version of a boys locker room, "make sure to stay far, far away from Kyle. He'll be inconsolable for weeks."

"Noted." I slow down until I've almost stopped walking completely. Beyond this stone archway is the harmonization of multiple young men singing Mariah Carey's Fantasy.

"Wait here," Ben tells me. "Let me make sure they're clothed." It's no time at all before Ben appears back in the archway, waving me in.

I step inside what looks like a normal room within the Temple, and the most surprising thing about it is the fact that it doesn't smell like unwashed teenage boys. Three young men sit wrapping their knuckles in preparation for the game. Two of the boys immediately stand and bow when they see me, but the other one raises both hands over his head and yells, "YES! I told you she'd be here!"

A fourth boy struts into the locker room with a comedic little dance in his step. "Look alive, dill weeds. I heard Lady Cora is here—" It's at this point he finally sees me and belts out the most feminine high-pitched scream I've ever heard. As the other boys cover their mouths and choke on their laughter, the young man who screamed folds his hands behind his back, smiling widely as he desperately attempts to back up enough to hide behind one of his teammates.

"Cora," Ben announces and points to the boys one by one, "this is Kyle's eldest, Ulf." It's not surprising that the tallest, most muscular of the group belongs to Kyle. Ulf bows so dramatically his long blonde hair sweeps the ground. "This is Finn." The happiest of the bunch waves excitedly and then runs a hand through his dark fauxhawk. "The falsetto is Rune." I watch the freckled redhead turn an embarrassed shade of crimson. "And you've already met Andor." Ben scans the room a second time and frowns. "Where's Karl?"

Karl? Alex's Karl? I look over at Ben and realize he doesn't know. There's no way he knows that one of his players is destined for a romance with his daughter. I mean, if Ben wouldn't downright kill Karl, he at least would have forced him to join another team. Does that mean Alex and Karl haven't even met yet in this universe?

"He went to go kiss his mommy goodbye," Finn says at the same time Rune says, "He forgot his good boots."

"Congratulations on killing that absolute waste of space, my lady," says Ulf. Even his voice is the deepest out of all of them. "I'm only sorry you had to trouble yourself with such a pathetic creature."

I have to crane my neck all the way back to look up at him and I think, What are they feeding you kids?

"Yeah," Finn adds. "May his damned soul wander Midgard in ceaseless agony for all eternity!"

All at once, the young men hack up a mouthful of phlegm and spit in unison.

"Damn outsiders are getting too comfortable." Andor nods at Ben. "Coach, you can't seem to ship these people out of here fast enough."

"Hey," Finn pipes in. "Lady Cora, I've got a cousin on Hydra. Is she going to be okay?"

"Yeah," Rune yells, "my mom's on Hydra!"

"All of our mom's are on Hydra, dumbass."

I hold up my hands, and their yelling quickly dies down. "Everyone on Hydra is safe. I wasn't attacked on Hydra. I was attacked not too far from here, actually."

This seems to surprise them, and the group is suddenly a low rumble of discontent.

"He's lucky I wasn't there," Andor proclaims. "You wouldn't have had to trouble yourself. I would have fucked him up good."

"The only thing you would have fucked up is your bum knee," Finn yells, and all of the boys roar with laughter.

I don't know what I was expecting, but they seem like perfectly normal teenage boys to me. They're slightly awkward, always laughing, and very springy—like they haven't quite mastered the aftermath of a generous puberty. I look over at Ben, smiling at the fact that he looks like a father goose proud of his little goslings. Or, rather, humongous goslings.

Finn points at something outside of my line of sight. "Hey, Micro-dick, what took you so long? Games about to start!"

"Guys!" Karl comes crashing into the room, sliding to a stop and panting wildly. "Guys! There's girls in the audience! Oh," he says and quickly bows. "Hello, lady Cora."

"Yeah, we know." Ulf swings his long hair over a shoulder and starts to tie it up in a knot. "My mom always comes to my games."

"No, not moms," Karl emphasizes, wide eyed and out of breath. I almost don't recognize him with the long hair. "There's girls in the audience. Like. . . girl girls!"

Everyone is suddenly pushing and shoving for the door to get a good look for themselves. Ben rolls his eyes and I don't bother following them. Slowly, they return to their seats, looking miserable and slightly green.

"Coach? I'm not going out there," Finn proclaims loudly into the silence. "This'll be the one time I get my ass beat on the field, and then Hazel will never marry me."

"Freyja's in the audience," Ulf adds in a low voice. "I'm not making a fool of myself in front of her."

I'm not in the audience, I'm standing right here. Oh, wait, does he mean my granddaughter? Shit. I never officially met her, even though I promised Chris I would.

A choir of agreement rumbles through the room. Ben tries to calm the young men down, but I immediately have a much better idea.

"Hey," I call their attention and they fall silent. "Does anyone have water and mint?"

Finn hops up from his seat. "There's some mint in the cellars."

I make sure to put on my most excited smile when I say, "Good, go get it. Hurry." The boys all gather around as I crush up some mint leaves, sprinkle them into a big mug of water, and wave my hands randomly around the container. "Okay, it's done. Everyone take a drink. And don't go telling the other teams I did this, unless you want to be disqualified." I watch each of them as they pass the mug around, sip, and wait for something to happen. "Careful. This is very powerful magic. You feel it?"

"Yeah," says Andor, standing up taller. "I think so."

"I don't know about you all," says Rune, "but I'm feeling unstoppable."

As the boys get louder and louder, Ben leans in close to my ear, careful to keep his voice barely above a whisper. "You didn't actually do anything, did you?"

I smile up at him and he laughs.

Try as I might, I don't understand what I'm watching. If I were to make an educated guess, I'd say it's some kind of bastardization of both rugby and American football. None of the boys on either team are wearing protective body-wear, but at least they're wearing helmets.

I'm sitting alone on a chair overlooking the courtyard where Andor's ceremony took place. I was hoping Ben would be in the chair beside me, so he could explain what's going on, but he's down on the sidelines strategizing with Kyle.

Eventually, someone wins, and judging from the way the Bears are jumping around like fish out of water, I take a wild guess as to who is victorious and head down to the field to congratulate them.

I find Ulf slamming the palms of his hands into his face.

"What's wrong?" I ask. "What happened?"

"I. . ." He looks somehow completely calm and completely out of his mind all at the same time. "I saw Freyja in the audience. I said…"

"You spoke to her?" Finn stops celebrating, his eyes going wide. "Damn, Mr. Balls-of-steel over here. What did you say?"

Despite being the biggest and oldest of the group, Ulf seems to shrink miserably as he confesses, "I said she has nice teeth."

Everyone bursts into the loudest choir of laughter I've ever heard. Finn laughs so hard he falls to the ground. From out of the chaos, I hear someone yell, "Dude, no!"

Ulf is quick to defend himself. "I meant smile," he roars, but I doubt any of them are listening. In fact, they're all headed back to the locker room as Ulf continues to yell, "I meant to say she has a nice smile! Stop laughing! It's not funny!"

I'm just as surprised as the next person to find myself alone with the Bears as they chatter excitedly in their post-game victory. After double-checking I was fine on my own, Ben headed home to the barracks, leaving me with Eddard, Fenrir, and Pumba.

"Don't beat yourself up over it," says Rune. "You'll have another chance to talk to her."

"I, on the other hand," Finn boasts loudly, "only need one chance to woo my beloved Hazel."

I scribble these names down in my notebook and raise a suspicious eyebrow. "Oh really? Okay, pretend I'm Hazel. What would you do if she were standing where I am now?"

Finn holds a hand against his forehead, rolls his eyes into the back of his skull, and pretends to faint.

I can't help but laugh at his dramatics. "Be serious."

"I will simply charm her with my ability to laugh at anything, especially myself."

"And what will you do if that doesn't work?"

"Pffft, easy." Finn immediately drops to his knees, pawing at the hem of my dress, screaming, "Please! I have absolutely no shame! Please, I'll do anything! HAVE MERCY!"

I listen to them. Laugh with them. Encourage them not to give up hope if they make a bad first impression. I try to give them dating advice, but I realize fairly quickly I don't actually have any because I've never dated before.

"Lady Cora," Rune interjects. "You're a lady."

"Forgive our boy here, Cora," says Finn. "He's all brawn and no brains."

"Shut up," says Rune, laughing. "I just mean. . . well, how did you pick your husband?"

I look up from my notebook. "Huh?"

"Yeah," Andor perks up. "What made you pick Ben?"

"I didn't pick Ben." I close my notebook and look up at their five eager faces. "I married him to stop the war."

Rune seems relieved to find everyone else is just as confused as he is. "What war?"

"How do you not know about this?" I ask. "All of your fathers were involved."

There's a brief moment of pure silence for the first time all day, but it doesn't last long.

"I love how our goddess has a sense of humor." Finn's laughter dies down just enough for him to say, "Listen, my parents are madly in love, but my mom would literally kill my dad in his sleep if he ever plotted to defy you."

"Same," says Ulf, and the rest of the boys chime in to confirm. "You're my mom's favorite god."

Rune nods. "Pretty sure you're everyone's favorite god."

"Oh really?" I strangle my notebook and take a deep breath to try and keep calm. "Did you all not hear about what happened to Erik?"

"About when you kicked his ass?" Finn belts out a squawk of a laugh. "It's about time someone did."

I laugh along with them to throw them off the scent. They'd probably run away if they knew how I was actually feeling. "He was trying to rally troops to kill everyone in the barracks." I study their faces to see if they are surprised to hear this, but they either groan with disdain or roll their eyes.

Andor says, "That's because Erik is a total tool."

"Yeah," Ulf agrees. "Dad says that whole family has delusions of grandeur."

"Ugh," Karl groans. "I can't stand that guy. Or Thor, for that matter."

This sparks an entirely new set of conversations about their shared dislike of Thor.

"We all know damn well he's not half-god." Finn makes a shooing motion and laughs. "I bet my eternal soul that dude doesn't have a single drop of Aesir blood in him."

Thor is human, right? So does his family claim he's partially related to the "real" Thor? Are there other people who claim to be part-god? Are they lying, or do I need to start asking more questions about Norse deities? I mean, if I exist, whose to say another Aesir or Vanir also exist?

As interesting as this information is, my brain is still hyperfocused on their comments about Erik. "What did your dads say was the reason I got married?"

I note by the way they all stop laughing and shoot uncomfortable glances at each other that none of them want to say anything. Finn eventually takes one for the team and answers, "Dad says you have a fetish for mortals."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Is that the right word?" Finn whispers to the others and they shrug. "Uh, you know, you. . . prefer mortals to gods."

I blink at them all, too stunned to speak for a good 30 seconds. "Your dad said I married Ben because I prefer mortals to gods?"

"Isn't that why?"

It takes all my strength not to scream at them to please stop laughing because if you don't, I'm going to break something. Instead, I calmly say, "You got me there, boys."

Finn belts out a loud bark of a laugh and then self consciously runs a hand through his fauxhawk. "I'm sorry, lady Cora," he apologizes. "I'm not laughing at you. As a mortal myself, I just find it funny that you picked Coach of all people."

Their laughter fuzzes into nothing more than white noise as my brain tries to process what they've told me.

I excuse myself for the night, claiming to be tired. Then I grab my satchel, gather up Eddard, Fenrir, and Pumba, and make the hike to the Barracks.

I find him eating dinner at his kitchen table. He glances over when I enter unannounced, but he doesn't stand.

"Oh, Cora," he says, "hello. Would you like me to make you a plate?"

Even though the table is only set for one, I need confirmation we're alone. I even told Eddard to take Fenrir and Pumba on a walk while I'm here. "Is Alex home?"

"No."

"Good."

"Oh dear," he mutters jokingly, "which of them got on your bad side today? Apologies in advance for their behavior, but they are teenage—"

"I'm going to give you one chance and one chance only to tell me the truth." I'm already trembling and I don't know how to stop. "And then I'm going to give you one chance to try and explain your reasoning."

"Ah." Ben slowly looks up at me, but I can tell from his tone he's not taking this seriously. "I see I'm the one in trouble."

"Was Erik ever a legitimate threat to either of our people?"

Every facial feature freezes, and that's how I know the answer when he tries to deflect my question. "Depends on who you ask."

"Yes or no, Ben," I interrupt. "Answer yes or no. Was Erik ever a legitimate threat to either of our people?"

There's a few responses on his lips, but he ends up asking,"Why do you care?"

I'm so upset, I start spluttering. "Why—why do I. . . what? Why do I care? Are you even listening to yourself? Why do I care you lied to me? That you stole my agency? Is that what you're trying to ask? I had a right to say no, and you took that away from me. Did you honestly think I wouldn't be angry?"

He continues eating as if this isn't a serious conversation. "Nobody forced you into anything. The decision was all your own."

"Because you convinced me I had no other choice! I never wanted to get married. I only married you because you said this would stop people from killing each other."

"And it will," he retorts snidely, taking another bite. "In the long run, this will all be worth it. So again, I repeat, why do you care?"

"Oh. . . oh-ho-ho, no." A low, enraged laughter coughs out of me in-between my words. "I am actually going to. . . if you don't stop talking, I'm going to—"

"You'll what?" he questions dryly. "You're going to wag your finger at me?" Ben slowly pushes up out of his seat, so I'm forced to look up at him. "Give me a good chastising?"

I feel it rush up both my arms until they sting so badly I have to move them right now. Locking my fingers together over my head, I belt out an infuriated yell and turn to swing down hard against the nearest thing. I make contact with a loud crunch as wood splinters and pieces scatter around the kitchen. Bits of Ben's dinner are smooshed all over my fists, and I immediately feel horrible, but it doesn't last long.

"Did you just. . . break my table?" Instead of looking frightened, Ben's expression scrunches into pure rage. "I made this table! Do you have any idea how long it took me to make this table?!"

"Nobody was actually going to support a war. Their wives never would have let them." I think about all that's happened since I first woke up on the beach, and everything starts to fall into place. "You and Gail ordered the norsemen to pretend to listen to Erik over me. You orchestrated this from the beginning. Was everyone in on it? Or was Erik the only one you left out of the loop?"

He's not even trying to deny it.

I rush him, pushing him away with only my regular strength. "What is your problem, you psycho?"

He backs up, shaking his head. "I don't expect you to understand."

"Understand what?"

"That this isn't fair," he snarls sharply, and I recoil at his anger.

"What isn't fair?"

"You're supposed to be dead," he yells, his outburst accusatory.

This time something feels different. Instead of shrinking away and thinking of music and food to keep from facing the fight I'm in, I feel my back straighten. "And whose fault is that, Ben?"

"Are we really doing this?" His rhetorical question hangs in the air for a few seconds, and then he says, "Alright then, let's do this. You want to know what my problem is? You are my problem. You have always been my problem. I haven't had a decent night's sleep in almost 30 years because of you!" All the muscles in his jaw twitch as he seethes. "Do you have any idea what I've had to do in preparation for your return?"

"You want an award?"

"I have only ever done what was asked of me, and all I get in return is sarcasm?" He says each word in their own sharp little sentence. "You asked me to wait. So here I am, Cora. I did what you asked for. I waited. I've been very patient."

I scoff. "I've never asked you for anything."

This seems to be the absolute worst response because now Ben is visibly shaking with rage. "I've spent the majority of my life mourning you, and now suddenly here you are, as if nothing ever happened? And I'm just supposed to act like nothing's wrong?" I back up, but he closes in on me, ranting louder than ever. "You don't know who I am! You don't even know who you are!"

"Fair? Y ou want to talk about fair?" I counter, pushing back and reclaiming some of the space he's taken. My nose scrunches as I frown deeply, my teeth bared at the audacity of him yelling at me. "You're mad at me for something I have no memory of."

"Oh," he chuckles humorlessly, throwing up a dismissive hand and turning away. "Forgive me. I forgot I'm not allowed to be angry with you about the past because you've been reborn. How incredibly convenient to be blessed with such selective ignorance."

He's walking away, but that means he wins, and I can't let that happen. I follow him to his desk, yelling, "You're mad at me for something I can't fix. You have no idea what I've been dealing with. I never asked to be here!"

"That's your argument? The old I didn't ask to be born angle?"

"This isn't my fault!"

Ben sharply swivels towards me again, nostrils flaring in outrage. "Everything's your fault! Absolutely everything has always been your fault! You think I wanted to stay here in these ugly houses? You think I enjoy being ostracized and spat on by your people?" He takes another step towards me, and I tighten my fists. I feel my whole body tensing, preparing to fight. "I've never asked you for anything, and all you've ever done is give me uselessly vague orders! I don't even know why I care," he says, softer, more as a rumination with himself. "Is this just something you do for fun? How many other mortals have you done this to? Why me? What made you pick me? Why couldn't you have just left me alone?"

Nothing he's saying is making any sense. To be honest, I'm not even entirely sure what we're fighting about anymore, but I'll be damned if I'm the one to back down. "What the hell are you even talking about?"

"You ruined my life," he roars louder than ever, loud enough for me to flinch away. "I didn't have a childhood because of you! Everyone on this island hates me because of you! I haven't had a moment to myself since I was thirteen because your bright idea was to leave me in the care of Gail! I've had her breathing down my neck for twenty-eight years! And still I've—" Ben sucks in a steadying breath, but his words come out just as loud when he says, "I shouldn't have to babysit a deity. So why is it I am constantly having to clean up your messes?"

My eyes flit down at his fists and find—just like my own—his fingers are balled so tightly his knuckles shine white. "You want to hit me, don't you? Will that make you feel better? Is that what you want?"

Ben's intense eyes slowly narrow as he stares down at me, his hoarse voice thick with loathing. "You have no idea what I want."

"Then tell me!" It feels so good to yell at someone who is angry with me, and Ben is deliriously furious, which just makes it all the more satisfying. If he wants a fight, I'll give him a fight. "For once in your pathetic life," I scream up at him, feeling brave enough to step closer, "just say what you actually—"

Ben abruptly leans down and cuts me off, tangling his fingers in my hair, holding my head secure as I try to voice my intense confusion, but it only comes out as muffled garble against his eager lips. He must mistake this for excitement because I hear him moan as he deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue inside my mouth, pushing me up against the wall.

I don't know how long it is before I regain control of my limp arms, but when I do, I get my hands on his chest and shove him away from me, our lips finally parting with a loud smack. There are a million things I want to say as I stare, open-mouthed and horrified.

All I manage to scream is, "WHAT?"

Ben slides away across the hardwood floor from the force of my shove, but he easily rights himself, his eyes heavy-lidded and crazed as he slowly advances. "What would you like me to say?"

"Stop," I order. "Stop."

"Cora," he continues, despite my interruption, "I love—"

"No. No. No. No, you don't," I splutter, backing away until I bump into a kitchen chair, frantically jabbing a finger at him, trying to make sense of all this.

"Everything you said was true," he continues as we circle each other around the broken kitchen table. "Every last thing. It wasn't easy—gods, it wasn't easy—but it worked," he adds with an elated smile. "I made it work."

"You said. . ." Gulping another breath, I motion between us. "This isn't. . . You told me this was a contract marriage." I back away until we're separated by the couch, but he's still advancing, slowly, dazed elation in his eyes. My head is spinning so fast, I'm in very real danger of blacking out. "I thought. . . I thought you hated me?"

"I should," he confirms, chuckling like we're sharing an inside joke.

"What do you mean you should? If you should, then why don't you?"

"Cora," he pleads, staring in a deeply longing way that makes me even more confused, "I devoted my entire life to you years ago. I will do whatever you ask of me. You need only ask."

We circle his desk, cross the room again, and end up back in the kitchen. "Our marriage was to save people." I mean to continue shouting, but my voice is too weak to carry the weight. "It was never about us."

Ben easily sidesteps the kitchen chair I've pulled out to slow him down. He never even breaks eye contact as he catches up to me. "Can it not be for both?"

I never realized just how blue his eyes are, especially in contrast to his now dilated pupils. They trail across every inch of my face and finally settle on my mouth.

As I grew into an adult, I couldn't help but fantasize about what it would be like to have someone look at me the way Ben's looking at me now. But this isn't anything like I thought it would be. All of this is wrong.

I have to get out of here. My eyes flit around wildly. Do I go for the door? Should I jump out the window?

I've always been attracted to men, but in an appreciation sort of way. There was never a lustful spark. Never any kind of sexual urge. Now my heart actually hurts from the ferocity of its beats as my entire body grows warm with desire.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

A horrible heat pulses through my core. I'm so aroused I start to panic at the thought that Ben can somehow tell. It was easy to keep my distance when this was a nice little daydream I had control over, when I had no physical reactions other than slight embarrassment when he'd say something suggestive, but now that he's admitted his flirtations were always actual flirtations—that I was the desired recipient of his attention—I'm consumed with so much lust I can't even think straight. I want him to kiss me again. I want him to touch me. I want to know what he feels like.

But when he brings a hand up to cup the side of my face, I flinch away.

Ben moves backwards, hands raised. "Cora, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Anything?" I question, whispering the rest. "You would do anything for me? No matter what I ask for?"

His face brightens at the opportunity. "Whatever you—"

"Good." I try to swallow, but my mouth has run dry. "Good. Sit, right there. Over there. On the couch."

He doesn't immediately move. I watch his eyes follow my index finger to the seating on the other side of the room. Instead of arguing, he stays true to his word and backs up, slowly sinking into the cushions I'm pointing at.

I turn and rush for the door, but I spin back around when I hear him stand. "Sit down," I order.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Sit down," I repeat. Something in his confused expression shifts and saddens as he realizes what I'm doing. Now that he's not so close, the adrenaline rush lessens, and I am suddenly egregiously drowsy. "Don't follow me."

Ben stares, his expression blank. He sits. It feels like a lifetime before he gives a small nod.