8
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Seeing my father, the king of gods, for the first time was about as out-of-body as I’d expected it to be. My brain refused to accurately take in the image in front of me, causing me to stumble to a stop and gape unbecomingly.
A giant of a man, dressed in an elegant tunic embellished with purple and gold, holding a spear in his right hand, his hair a mixture of rich brown and gray, stood in front of me. The eye patch Huggie told me about, over his left eye, was made of dark, thick leather and crafted beautifully, almost to the point where it looked ornamental.
What I hadn’t been expecting was his smile.
He beamed at me like I was a treasure once lost and now found.
“Come closer, my child.” He was commanding, yet gentle. “Let me get a good look at you.”
I inched closer, my eyes riveted on him. To my surprise, I spotted similarities to myself in the man who stood before me. His hair had chestnut accents like my own. His eyes held flecks of hazel. His nose had the same slope. He didn’t look old, but he didn’t exactly look young either.
Huggie was right. He looked wise.
He was taller than anyone I’d ever met before. He stood at least a head above both Fen and Tyr. I stopped a few feet shy of him. I was nervous to go any closer, my hands clasped in front me. The man radiated strength and power.
Imposing was most accurate. He was easily the most imposing person I’d ever met.
Maybe Huggie had been better at this game than we’d both thought.
Behind me, the raven gave a loud squawk and landed on a nearby tree branch.
You need not be afraid. Odin will not harm you.
“The bird speaks the truth,” my father said. “Come, let us walk by the stream and talk awhile.”
I nodded. I knew my father was trying to make me comfortable, and I appreciated it. “Where are we?” I asked, glancing around the clearing, noticing the water rushing nearby for the first time.
“We are in a section of the great forest that holds the sacred stream called Irigard. It is sacred because it’s said to be made up of tears from a goddess.”
“Is it?”
My father tilted his head back and laughed, his hair falling over his shoulder. I hadn’t expected that. The sound was lofty and genial. He was quite handsome in a very nontypical sort of way. Not like Fen, or even Tyr. I was drawn to him like I’d never been drawn to anyone before. He radiated raw masculinity coupled with power. It was a heady mix. “Some of our myths are based on truths, and some of our truths have faded to myth.”
“So, not really made of tears,” I said. “More metaphorical.”
“Possibly started with tears, or a few tears dropped into an already flowing stream,” he amended. “But, yes, it evolved metaphorically. It’s hard to keep track of these things unless the god or goddess doing the business of myth-starting let’s everyone know. In order to keep a stream of this size flowing with tears, the goddess would still be weeping, but lo and behold, no one’s ever set eyes on her before.” He chuckled. It was a low baritone and highly pleasant.
I glanced tentatively up at my father and smiled. “I didn’t expect you to be funny.” It was a goofy thing to say, but I had no idea how to have idle chitchat with the king of gods.
What exactly did one say?
“No, I don’t suppose you didn’t,” he replied. “But since you only found out I existed a relatively short time ago, you haven’t had time to weigh all of my many characteristics evenly. For instance, you’ve contemplated much about my hair color, the age of my physical body, and whether I need the aid of a cane, among other things. But have not considered if I have a wry wit, like the color yellow, or enjoy figs with my wine. I’m certain that will come in time.”
Figs and wine? “No, you’re right,” I said hastily. “I haven’t thought much beyond your physical attributes. I was focused on them, but only because I was worried.” I tried not to twiddle my thumbs. I was having a hard time calming my nerves, and fidgeting was an old standby.
“Worried about what?”
“I mean…everything,” I said. “You’re Odin, king of the gods, and I’m just a girl from Midgard. It’s been difficult to wrap my brain around what’s happened to me since I’ve been struck, and compartmentalizing has never been my strong suit. It’s all overwhelming.”
“Indeed,” Odin said. “Although you see yourself as an ordinary girl from Midgard, a mere mortal would not be able to force her mind to comply with all you’ve encountered. You were born from both god and powerful Valkyrie, and because of that, you are able to accept what you see rationally—albeit with some trepidation, which is to be expected. It is not possible for mortals to grasp any of this. Their brains are not capable enough to process the world around us.” He made a sweeping gesture. “The way our streams flow back and forth, the color of the leaves on the trees, the feel of the moss under their feet. They are not meant to contemplate such things. Maybe in time, as they evolve, but certainly not now.”
“That’s good to know,” I said. “Some days, when my brain lingers on everything that’s happened, I feel like I’m going a little mad. But then I try to see things in a new light and it helps. Fen has been wonderful in that respect.” I blushed. I hadn’t meant to bring Fen up so soon. My wolf boyfriend was slated to kill Odin during Ragnarok. It was incredibly awkward, but Odin had to know we were together.
“Yes, Fenrir.” My father’s face was contemplative. “I knew he would help you. That’s why I sent you to that realm.”
I stopped walking. “You sent me to Muspelheim?” My jaw unhinged a little, and I struggled to shut it quickly.
“I did,” Odin said, continuing toward the river’s edge. “When I struck you, I knew things would happen very quickly. The Norns would discover your birth and send their agents to retrieve you, which they did. I had hoped that Ingrid, the valiant Valkyrie, would be able to shuttle you to the Stronghold in time, but alas, the ettins got to you first. I sent Junnal to aid you in the Norns’ lair, and I waited, not so patiently, for you to find your way back into Yggdrasil.” My father was kind as he explained what had happened from his viewpoint. It made me feel good knowing he’d been interested in the outcome. “I could not interfere directly. If I had, it would have been admitting guilt about keeping your birth secret, and thus bringing shame to you. Going through the proper channels and securing support for your cause—that is the way things work in Asgard.” He smiled. “Once you made your way into the tree, Huggie was waiting, and I had a decision to make. I couldn’t send you to any of the civilized realms. If I had, the Norns would have had you as their prisoner immediately. So I chose to send you to Fenrir.”
“But isn’t he your sworn enemy?”
The stream meandered next to us, gurgling as it trickled over rocks and outcroppings. As I watched, the water changed directions and began to flow upstream. It was a seamless transition, and one that looked like it occurred regularly. Had Odin not just told me it could happen, I wouldn’t have believed it.
“Not really,” he said. “In this universe, we all have our fated roles to play. Fenrir’s is particularly unfortunate. But even so, my son Tyr trusted him with his life and was his champion for many years. Although we tried, nothing we could do could tame the wolf. When Fenrir took Tyr’s hand, he sealed his fate. At the time, years of isolation seemed the only course of action to take. But I never lost faith that the wolf would come into his own.”
“How did you know he wouldn’t kill me?” I asked. “He hadn’t seen another person for centuries. It was a risk sending me there.” I remembered those first few moments with Fen. He had taken my dagger, and I’d been convinced he was going to leave me to die or kill me himself.
But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d come to my aid.
“Not so risky,” Odin said. “To know the measure of a man is to know what lies in the very heart of his soul. Fenrir struggled with rules and structure, but at his root he is good. He felt the pressure of the world at his very throat, and most of the time, he was right. The world, particularly Asgard, was against him. He was reactive, when he should’ve been introspective. He needed time to understand his role in the universe, so I granted it to him.”
“You’re not worried he’ll try to kill you before Ragnarok?” I asked.
My father chuckled. “If Fenrir managed to kill me before Ragnarok, then Ragnarok wouldn’t be a fated event. I have no fear of the wolf. In fact, I wish him well. He has served his time—a sentence much harsher than many.”
My heart rate sped up. My father had forgiven Fen. This was fantastic news. “But you’re sentencing him tomorrow. Can’t you just let him go free instead?”
He shook his head. “I wish it were that easy. Fenrir ignored our laws and broke free of Muspelheim without being authorized, so he must pay the price. If I do not punish those who break the law, the people of Asgard would demand it be done.”
“But you don’t have to send him to Helheim,” I said, biting my lip.
“No, I don’t,” he agreed. “There are a few other places he could go.” My father met my eye. “You don’t want him to join you in Helheim? It might be folly to go on your own without him.”
My gaze lingered on some ripples in the stream, still making their way upward. “I don’t want him sent to Helheim if he will never be allowed to come back to Asgard, even if that means going without him. You’re right. He’s done his time. He deserves a chance at a real life. If you can give him a lighter sentence, promising that he can rejoin his former life in Asgard, I would prefer it.”
“You would sacrifice your life in order to save his?” Odin asked, his voice neither incredulous nor surprised, purely thoughtful.
“In a heartbeat,” I answered. “In Midgard, it’s called a no-brainer. He’s lived for literally years in pain, agony, and isolation. He has saved my life three times. I wouldn’t have had a chance in Muspelheim if not for him. Even now, if there was a way he could save me, he would jump in front of your spear. I would do no less for him.”
Odin was quiet for a few moments. “Come, this way. There’s a spot to sit nearby.”
“This place is truly amazing,” I said. “Are we far from the heart of Asgard?” It was impossible to know how long I’d traveled through the tree.
“We are just outside the fabric of Asgard,” Odin said. “I come here often when I want time alone, as it’s somewhat undetectable. It was necessary to meet away from prying eyes, so I chose here. It’s beautiful, is it not?”
“It’s wonderful,” I replied. “In fact, all of Asgard is amazing. The colors are so vibrant.” I sat on one edge of a stone bench next to my father. It was strange being this close to him. I wasn’t sure what else to talk about. “Being able to make a cillar is pretty handy. I had no idea I could do it myself.”
“Yes,” he said. “It was necessary for me to make sure you had some unique strengths. There’s only so much I can do when I strike a Valkyrie. The rest is up to her. But you are immensely strong and capable. It makes me proud.”
“You’ve never fathered another Valkyrie before?” I asked curiously.
“No. Up until relatively recently, I had very little contact with Valkyries, other than by decree. They work for me, yes. My job is to send them on missions to defend the realm, and they are extremely good at what they do.” He paused. “Valkyries are considered a special commodity in our world and are treated with reverence and respect. My relationship with your mother didn’t break any laws, but there was much disapproval. When she became pregnant and the seer prophesized the dire news, your mother and I both knew that if we were to let the world know we were expecting, we would lose you. Your life was too precious to us. So we made sacrifices—the effects of which we must deal with now.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m glad you did what you did,” I said.
“Our lives are interconnected and continue to be very complicated. With the outcome being what it is, we have found ourselves in a current situation that can bring harm to many, including yourself and your wolf compatriot. That’s why I have brought you here tonight. We must discuss your future.”
“I understand Frigg’s anger,” I told him quietly. “And yours. Baldur was your son, too. You must be heartbroken. I’m devastated it happened, and I wish every day that there was something I could’ve done differently. I take my punishment willingly. I don’t know the ways of Asgard yet, but I’m learning. A Valkyrie doesn’t shy away from what’s right. I set him free, and he died. I will pay the price.”
“That’s very noble of you, indeed,” Odin said, without a trace of sarcasm. “The only thing wrong with that statement is that Baldur would’ve died whether you were involved or not, something Frigg cannot comprehend at the moment. Gods and goddesses tend to be very hard to kill. They die only when fated to do so. But we will allow the goddess time to grieve. And during that time, you will have the chance to bring her unique happiness, all while securing your place in Asgard.” He grinned. “Just the way it is meant to be.”
“Do you know what my future holds?” I asked. “Has it been predicted yet?” I’d been told that gods and goddesses found out their fate at different times in their lives. I was technically a demigod, so maybe I qualified for an open reading of some kind.
“No, your destiny hasn’t been fully revealed,” he said as I tried not to feel disappointed. “But as things unfold, both past and present, I see you are clearly on the right path. Baldur’s fate intermixes with yours, and his is particular. It was prophesized that he would die young, but there was also a caveat. Not many are provided with a caveat, so it is of great interest to us.”
Excitement fluttered in my chest. “My mother told me there might be a way to save Baldur from Helheim. If there’s a chance to bring him back, I’m eager to hear it. Baldur was a bright light—one who deserves to shine still. I want to give him that chance.”
“Your mother is correct,” Odin said. “But I must warn you, the chances of success are narrow, the outcome unclear. Since his death, I’ve tried to track down any oracle who can tell me the particulars of his fate, but none are to be found. The original seer who dictated Baldur’s fate died nearly a hundred years ago. That’s the way it goes sometimes. Fate is hard to pin down, and rightly so. If we knew every direction our lives would take, they wouldn’t be worth living.”
“What happens if I’m unsuccessful?” I swallowed. “Will Fen and I be trapped in Helheim forever?”
“I’m sorry to say that is also unpredictable,” Odin said. “Frigg will certainly send you there to suffer the same fate as our son. To escape your sentence, your best chance is to bring Baldur back to Asgard, in which event you will be hailed a hero. Life would be instantly granted back to you.”
“And Fen.”
He gave a slow nod. “If the wolf aids in Baldur’s release, I will pardon him.”
“Can I have your word on that?” I asked. Huggie immediately flapped his wings and gave a loud squawk. My father simply stared at me. I was pretty sure I’d just made a gaffe. The king of gods didn’t likely get questioned very often. “I’m…I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I apologize if I’ve overstepped myself by asking you that. I trust you to keep your word—that goes without saying. I was just looking for a little reassurance because I’m so worried.”
A moment passed, and my father said, “My decree is always final here, but I must strive to make sure I stay fair and impartial, and always within the rules of our laws. If I do not, things would be damaged beyond repair. Gods and goddesses—and even the people of Asgard—could challenge my authority. It happens often enough as it is. But at the end of the day, what I say is the law. Forcing the constituents of Asgard to accept Fenrir will be a hard task, but not impossible. If the wolf shows great courage and helps rescue a favorite of this realm, there is a very good chance he will walk free. But until we see how the events unfold, it is an unknown.”
“I understand,” I replied quietly. “We do our jobs and hope for the best. I accept that.” Even though the possibility of being trapped in Helheim scared the wits out of me.
“Your mother will have a particularly hard time with your sentence,” Odin said. “She has just been reunited with you, only to have you taken away.”
“Yes.”
“I will do all I can, within my constraints, to facilitate a happy ending,” my father assured me. “After all, you are my daughter. The flesh of my flesh.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that. There is one more thing I’d like to talk to you about before I go,” I said. “It has to do with the Norns. Even if I’m successful at freeing Baldur, they will still seek me out. I heard they’ve been spreading lies throughout Asgard already, turning the people against me.”
“Indeed,” Odin said. He stared off into the distance, and for a few moments, he was lost deep in thought.
Huggie hopped onto a branch above my head.
There are some things that Odin may not be able to share with you on this night. Things here are in motion and ever changing.
Odin cleared his throat and gave me a small smile. “The raven is correct. I have no fear, my daughter, that you will outsmart the Norns. Your brother Tyr has brought me valuable information this day. While you are away, we will investigate further. None has ever challenged the Norns before, and their end goals are not clear to me yet. We must step carefully.”
“I understand.”
“Our time runs out,” my father said as he stood. “You must get back to the Stronghold before you are detected missing.” I scrambled up. I had no idea if I should shake his hand or try to give him a hug. It wasn’t every day that a girl met her real father who was a powerful god. We began to walk back the way I’d come. “There’s one more thing,” he added.
“Yes?”
“The god you will see tomorrow is not the god you see tonight.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will.”