Destined (Desolation #3) (28 page)

“We intended for Thor to rule Midgard—but then I . . .” She glanced away and I thought perhaps she was crying; but when she turned back to me, though her eyes shone with tears, they did not fall. “It was our fault, you see. We fell in love and I bore a child—a child who had no place in the tapestry of this new life. 

“My twin brother, Freyr, mighty and golden, was deeply angered at what I had done. At the child I had conceived. He convinced the Council that Thor should be punished, that he should be denied Midgard, claiming none of the gods could have favor, as surely I favored Thor since I loved him so. Then Freyr dictated that our child be cast out to the stars—a fate we could not accept. 

“Thor fought for my honor, for the right to wed me, to raise our child here in Vanaheim or even Midgard if that would please the Council. But Freyr was beyond reason. On the night I gave birth to my son, in this very cottage, the tapestry changed forever. 

“I could hear Thor and Freyr still fighting through the castle windows. I fled with my child, believing I would find some friendly place where I could hide until Freyr could be reasoned with—but Heimdall barred my path and refused me access to the Bifrost.” She reached out and patted my leg. “Oh, don’t worry. He was very kind about it. After all, he was an old friend, a Vanir god we all agreed would guard the way—it would fall to him, forever, to mark the paths we trod, to keep order in the worlds. 

“He knew a Vanir god could not remain hidden—especially with a child of unknown potential. Heimdall suggested an Æsir god, a guardian of one of the nine worlds, could perhaps find it in his heart to rear a child of mixed blood. He spoke with reason and care—the first time since my pregnancy began that anyone had looked upon the union with any amount of acceptance. 

“And when he was done speaking I knew there was one god who could be trusted with such a task. Only Odin loved as truly as Thor—and they are brothers, so perhaps that says it all.

“I took my child, my son, to Odin, with Heimdall’s blessing. I laid him in the arms of Odin’s queen and returned to my castle—only to find Thor and Freyr embattled. In a rage I lashed out at Freyr, my anguish over all that had happened, all I had lost, driving me to act beyond reason, beyond care.

“In the end, Freyr lay on the ground at my feet.”

She bowed her head while teardrops of silver dripped into her open hands. “The gods gathered and pronounced their judgments. Thor would be sent to Asgard where he would never rule, never reveal himself to our son, never see me again. I was to stay here, forever separated from the ones I loved. The castle had been all but destroyed and so I have lived here ever since, near my former home, to remind me of what fear and hatred can do. Of what prejudice can do.”

I watched her face as she watched mine. Saw the freckles there—so much like my own. I had thought they were my mother’s, but now I knew. They were Freyja’s. My grandmother’s.

Freyja leaned forward and took my hand. “Thank you for bringing my son home to me,” she said. I shook my head, fumbling over the words in my mind.

“I’m so sorry,” I finally said. 

“Oh.” Freyja’s voice held laughter in it, which just seemed wrong considering Loki had died. “He is not dead, my dear. Loki is a god and as such, he is immortal—this was not his first time to die. It was, however, the first time he has died with love in his heart—which is thanks to you, of course. Because of you I now have the chance I never had before, to meet my only child. It is a gift for which I will be forever grateful.” She sat up straighter and patted my hand.

“Have you not wondered how it is your life has ended, only to resume again? You’re here because I wanted you to see for yourself the source of your heritage, and to know the truth about your father. The truth about you.” She gave me a pointed look, one that seemed to say,
Now listen up and listen good.
“The Æsir and Vanir gods were two sides of the same coin. Dark and light. Good and evil. Like Freyr and I—male and female, gold and silver. I won’t go so far as to say he was good and I evil, or the other way around—though some will judge.” She tried a shrug and found it didn’t suit her. “I have to be at peace with that. I know what is true—what is in my heart.” She placed her hand on her heart and stared at me, daring me to disagree. 

“You are the best of us, you know. You hold our hope in your destiny. Be the woman you want to be—don’t let yourself be shaped by the colors on your skin or in your Halo. You are exactly right, exactly perfect, just as you are.”

She stood then, and walked to the mantle where she took down a small, golden box. She walked to the table, the box cradled in her hands. I joined her, sitting opposite her, my eyes practically glued to the box and the mystery Freyja would reveal.

“Wait,” I said. “What’s going to happen to—?”

“To your father?” Freyja’s eyes flicked over my shoulder to Lucy, then back to me. “Now that he has healed, Thor will come to collect him. It has been decided that Loki is too volatile to be allowed to return to Asgard or Midgard. Truly, he is too dangerous for any of the nine worlds. But, with the Æsir world gone, and Vanaheim now home to the resting Valkyrie, the Svarts have offered up the northern reaches of their home to Thor and Loki. It is dark there, plagued by a rocky, unkind terrain and vicious cold, and barren of population. There, Thor will endeavor to have Loki atone for his sins against the gods. He will ensure Loki receives the punishment the gods have demanded of him.”

“Punishment?”

“Yes. It pains me that my child has fallen so far from his potential glory, but even the gods are not immune to our laws. We decided long ago to hold ourselves accountable, to never abuse the power we hold over our people. And as my child—as Odin’s adopted son—Loki knew there would be consequences for his rebellion. He must answer to this higher law. You see how this must be?”

I nodded my head, my heart a weird mix between relief and sadness.

Freyja patted the box, bringing my attention back to her, back to this moment. “This was Thor’s—your grandfather’s. It is his most prized possession. He was stripped of it when he was sent to Asgard. I know he wished his son would wield it, but . . . given Loki’s choices, I am certain he would wish you to have it.”

She ran her fingers over the gold inlay on the top of the box—a depiction of clouds and lightning. “Thor would be proud to claim you. As I am. I am told he has watched you and applauded your courage, your faith, your goodness.”

I looked down, falling upon my usual reaction to discount her positive assessment of me. Freyja squeezed my hand. “Don’t do that,” she said. “You are the granddaughter of the gods. Remember what I said—be proud of who you are and the good choices you have made. Now,” she said, taking a deep breath. 

“But, I know Thor. I remember him . . . from before.”

“He couldn’t tell anyone who he was, what his true relationship to Loki was.”

“I get that, but I was just there—I met with Odin. Why wasn’t Thor there?”

Freyja sighed and patted the box, clearly impatient with my questions. “Thor banished himself from Asgard after Loki was exiled. He has become a nomad of sorts, travelling between the worlds, never staying anywhere for long—never staying in Asgard at all.

“Now. Let me give to you this treasure. For it is a treasure, beyond any in all the worlds.”

She pulled up the lid of the box and set it aside, revealing a golden, swirling orb. It moved and shimmered like a living thing, astonishingly beautiful. Freyja reached in and plucked up the sphere by her fingertips. She let it roll into her palm.

She held her palm out to me. “It belongs to you now,” she said in a reverent whisper. “Take care of it. And remember who you are.”

She let the sphere fall from her hand to mine, and I felt its warm touch on my skin, its familiarity. “It’s alive!” 

Freyja smiled. “I’d hoped it would speak to you. It is all that is left of the Æsir home planet—a piece Thor rescued himself. It is a thing of great power, and, if it speaks to you, can be a source of great knowledge and insight as well. I had hoped, and now I know, my choice was true—you are its rightful keeper. Use it to help you do what must be done.”

I jerked my chin up, startled by her comment. “What’s to be done?”

Freyja’s sky blue eyes grew dark as though a storm approached. “Midgard needs a guardian. Odin has done his best all these long years, and he has done well. But Loki was relatively little threat to him—not divided as he has been. Helena on the other hand . . .” Freyja’s mouth tugged downward and she swallowed against what appeared to be very strong emotions.

“Hel is a Vanir god and has always had her own devious plans for the universe. She was never happy with our choice to forbid having children and has long hated me for the birth of my son. I—I helped him overcome her at one time. I only wanted a home for my child and I thought Loki could do a better job managing Helheimer than she did.

“But I have paid my price for such an act, and I am forbidden from interfering again.”

I shook my head, trying to make sense of her words. “I-I don’t understand.”

Freyja leaned forward and clasped my wrist. “Helena rules Helheimer now. And she hates you. You are my offspring—something she jealously desires and can never have herself. She will strive to undo you, if only to cause me pain. You must be ever ready, ever vigilant.”

She stared at me with such intensity, her hand gripping my wrist until my fingers grew numb. I glanced at Lucy, but she only smiled, her empathy for Freyja painting her features with sadness. Mahria seemed content to observe in silence, her stoic demeanor offering no opinion.

“Come,” Freyja said, standing up. “Our time is at an end—I must show you how to use the Genesis.” I barely noted the name she used—I’d already begun to think of it as I did the spark. That this was a physical manifestation of the one I’d held secret in the center of my heart my entire life. 

“You must Become your spirit, embrace all your gifts,” Freyja said, as she embraced her own. And oh, she was stunning. A silver hue with feathered wings that undulated like a shining sea. “Come,” she repeated.

I held the spark close to my chest and Became. 

“Oh!” Freyja exclaimed. “You are even more glorious than I’d hoped.” She reached out and trailed her fingers down the edge of my left wing, sending rivulets of happiness coursing through my body. “Yes, Thor must be so proud.” She touched my arm again, tenderness like warm honey seeping into my veins. “As I am.”

“Press the Genesis to your heart and welcome its presence within your mind with your thoughts.”

I did as she asked, feeling all the more that the Genesis was like the spark I already had. I wondered if it were possible that it was somehow related, that I somehow already had a piece of it with me. And then in a flash I understood—it was so much more than that.

This was life, true life—the power to give it and to take it away. This was omniscience, power and knowledge forged into one. I spread my arms wide as fire coursed through me, through my body, my mind, my wings. Into every thought came a deeper meaning, into every feeling came a deeper intensity. With the Genesis I had Become so much more than I ever thought I could be. I opened my eyes and found the three women watching me, all wearing expressions of maternal pride.

Freyja stepped forward, somehow standing taller, more regal, her blue eyes and soft smile a benediction. “Desolation,” she said.        “You have Become a god.”

With my Halo I reached for Father—and found him resting in the cottage across the street. He was awake and he knew what Freyja had done.

It should have been mine,
he said in my mind.

You know you aren’t worthy of such a gift,
I replied, surprised by my confidence in this knowledge. 

Father fell silent and didn’t say anything else.

An object in my Halo beckoned me and I reached out for it—clasping my fingers around a solid handle. As I pulled it from my Halo, the object gained density and weight. It was a massive hammer. 

Thor’s hammer!
Father said.

Mjölner,
it whispered to me. Forged of the Genesis, it had a will of its own, and with it, I knew I would be invincible. I could rule worlds with the power of this weapon. I could defeat Hel. 

Give it to me!
Loki cried. I could feel him clawing against my mind, demanding that I relinquish the weapon to him.

With a start I let go of Mjölner and tucked it away in my Halo. 

I love you, Father.

And I did. I always would—now more than ever. I knew there was good in Loki. Good that had been buried beneath a forever of hatred and jealousy. I wouldn’t be like him—but neither would I take after my uncle Freyr and see the eternities with an unbendable eye. I would remember who I was—all of who I was. 

Good and bad.

Dark and light.

And I would glory in my creation.

As my mother, Lucy, Freyja and I walked back to the garden, Freyja took my left hand. “Your hand should be whole.”

I glanced down, saw the ugly stub of my finger there, and jerked it out of her grasp. “I cut it off when—”