Three years. Svea looked down at her hand and the scar that ran across it, like a seam of chalk across her already pale skin. She’d been the only one in the entire country that year who had endured the old bleeding ritual, with everyone else allowing their children to have their fingers pricked instead. Her father had not been happy with their choices, and had ranted about the liberal attitude of the church ever sense. Both of Svea’s brothers had been in more conservative age groups, with at least five others having their palm’s cut. None of the three had had a choice in the matter. And she missed that. She missed being directed in her life, even if she had been berated for not having a trade. She still didn’t have a trade, but she also, sometimes, felt like she was lost in a haze with no directions to find her way out. It had been three years since the last initiation ritual she’d attended; it had been three years since she’d left home for fear of further embarrassing her father; it had also been three years since her magic had ruined her life.
Her index finger from the other hand traced lightly over the pale line before her fist closed, and she glanced back up at the fire, at her family who was dosing happily. Something had caught her attention in the dream, with small huffs of air coming out of the samoyed’s mouth ever few seconds in a dreamy attempt to bark. Paws twitched as they gave chase to some prey critter, and Svea smiled as her best friend “ran” after it. The smile made her notice how wet her eyes had become, with the bunching of her cheek sending small tears down her face. And then Jorg wandered in.
Quickly, hoping he’d take no notice, she wiped away the dampness, and walked over to him. He’d managed to escape his bed, yet again, though it hadn’t surprised Svea much the first time he’d done it. He was the child of the god who would put an end to the world. It was only fitting Jorg would be able to put an end to his bed. Nana, having jolted awake at the demands from the child glanced around the room before joining her fairy at the child’s side.
Svea didn’t know how to answer his question about where his parents were. She didn’t know where they went off to when they weren’t in the cottage. Only that it upset Jorg to see them leave and have to wait and wait until they decided it was time for another visit. But Rhaegar was a god and Thyri was his chosen one and Svea was a simple subject and tool to bow to their whims. Even asking for the naming ceremony for Jorg should have ended in her being smote by the Original. Gently, she picked Jorg up, much to Nana’s displeasure as it cut her off from her job of licking the child’s face until he wasn’t sad no more. Svea sat back on the small sofa and hugged Jorg close on her lap, as Nana took up the remaining room beside them.
“You did nothing wrong, Jorg. They… are off in the world protecting you and me and everyone else on Shaman,” she told him, as he relayed his fears about the monsters. She smiled ever so slightly. “Papa and Mama and their two ferocious wolves Skuld and Arnor, just like Odd-in, are out there scaring the monsters away right now. They have the mean monsters running scared from them so they won’t bother you at night. They only come when there are no more monsters to chase away,” she explained. “And they leave when another has grown bold and must be taught not to threaten the world.”
As she spoke, Nana was crawling slowly into her lap as well, enjoying the stories as much as Jorg would, and also aiming to cuddle with him as Svea spoke (though it served more to push Jorg slowly out of Svea’s lap, which was not growing larger and the dog pushed more of herself onto it).
“I cannot make them come back any more than I can make the monsters run scared from me. I’m not as scary as your Papa is. And Nana is not as scary as Skuld or Arnor are, even if she thinks she’s scarier.” Nana snorted with derision at the insult, but Svea carried on. “I bet, right now, Papa is chasing the draugr back into their beds beneath the ground, swinging his axe so they dare not approach him. A few are braver than the rest and will reach for him, trying to prove to the world that they are more powerful than Rhaegar. Of course they are not and he will defeat them easily. Your mother will not sit idly by to allow your father to fight alone, will she? She will be telling the Brunnmigi to leave the waters of Shaman untouched by their magic. And they too will listen well, for they are afraid of you father Rhaegar and all of his power, and no monster would dare to defy or harm those favored by the great gods.”
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