RAVNUR
Freyr.Ispottedhimin the distance like I had dreamed him into being. I often wondered if I had.
I hadn’t wanted to appear too possessive these past few days, insinuating myself into every aspect of his life, always wondering where he was when not with me, or having to be in his presence when we each had separate duties to perform. But oh, that he had tracked me down when I had just been thinking about how much I longed to see him was a greater magic than any I had ever witnessed from my king.
I raised a hand in greeting, and he raised his in answer. He had Gullinbursti with him but was walking beside it, as if purposelyhaving slowed his pace for time to think, or maybe just to enjoy the view. Freya’s lands were lovely. I wondered where Freyr was coming from and hated how my gut twisted with unfounded jealousy at who he might have been with.
“Well, I’d say, ‘look what the cats dragged in,’ but as per usual, they seem more interested in you.”
I turned to the fair and even-toned voice of Freyr’s twin, Freya, goddess of love and beauty. Also of blunt honesty if she liked you. Her cats, Bygul and Trjegul, were indeed at my feet and proceeded to nuzzle my legs, one in front and one behind, which thankfully kept either from toppling me over.
They were larger than the average forest cat, though no taller than just below my knees. Their long fluffy coats were such a unique combination of black and gray that they appeared blue, yet their eyes were sage colored like moss on a river rock. I bent to pet them, knowing that if I neglected to, they would rub against me harder and knock me prone. I had learned that the first time I met them, when they scent-marked me this same way to claim me as theirs. They were strong enough to pull Freya’s chariot after all, gifts from Thor himself.
“You seem vexed,” Freya said as she came closer. Even if one did not know she was Freyr’s twin, it would be obvious as soon as seeing her, for she was as lovely as he was handsome, with a similarly fair face, sun-kissed skin, green eyes, and long wavy hair. Freya’s had a touch more red to its auburn, and her figure was more slight and shapely, but she was tall and strong and every bit a warrior even without armor on.
Two of her horses had once been Freyr’s, wild ones from Alfheim that had been caught as foals. They were too wild to tame, at least by Freyr, and he had bidden me to make the trek here to give them to Freya as gifts.
“Those cats can bend anything to their wills,” Freyr had said.
Freya’s seat of power, the meadow lands of Fólkvangr, rested on a middle branch of Yggdrasil, hovering between Vanaheim, Alfheim, and Asgard, as if part of each and yet also none. There existed the meadow itself with Freya’s homestead at its center, and her hall, Sessrúmnir. The hall was also a grand ship that could detach from the homestead and soar through the clouds above the realms.
While Valhalla was most known as the destination for souls of the honorable dead should they perish in battle, half of such warriors went to Freya. When once I asked her how it was decided which warriors went where, she had asked me in turn, “Would you consider me a warrior?”
“Of course. You are Queen of the Valkyries.”
“But would you say I am more a lover than a fighter?”
“Yes.” I’d chuckled. She was the goddess of war as well, but love was always spoken first of her domains.
“Then you have your answer. I choose the warriors who fought and died for love.”
I had always liked that thought. I’d always liked Freya and had asked if I might visit from time to time to tend to the horses myself. Her cats did indeed help in taming them by herding them, nuzzling them, even riding them and sleeping on their backs, as if to say, “We are here either way, so best to accept us.” Freya said the horses’ taming was just as much my doing and had gladly accepted my request to visit.
We had been friends ever since.
The horses’ base color was such a lovely bluish shade that they matched the cats in a way, but they were dappled with cream spots and had cream-colored manes. After petting the cats, I reached up to pet the nose of the nearest horse, and Freya came over to pet the other. The cats mewed and leapt up onto the stable’s edge, balancing perfectly of course, to demand more pets in kind.
“Does my brother continue to spurn your so very obvious affections?” Freya raised an eyebrow toward me, as teasing as her twin.
“Quite the contrary.” I couldn’t resist glancing back as Freyr drew closer. “These past few days we’ve actually been courting.”
“What? And those were not the first words out of your mouth when you came to my door? Forshame, boy. I cannot read my brother’s mind from another realm. Usually.” Freya glanced at him too. “I do sense something though. And even from here, I can see his smile, one I have not seen in far too long.”
“Yet some clouds remain.” I turned back to the horses and cats. “He mourns for many things, and I am not sure how to banish the last of his troubles.”
“I am not sure you can.” Freya said it with such a touch of melancholy in her voice that it stole my breath. “Worry not.” She smiled when I met her gaze. “It isn’t a partner’s duty to do such things.”
“It isn’t? But I thought—”
“No, Ravnur. Imagine the heavy burden that would be if it was? A partner’s duty is to be there when the clouds are at their darkest, to be a comfort, a kind ear, a gentle presence when the storm approaches, but we cannot always keep the storm from brewing.”
I wanted to joke,Freyr can, but I knew how different a storm of the mind could be, for mine had raged for years in my longing for him. Now here I was. I had him. Yet I was so impatient, I was trying to rush what shouldn’t be hastened.
Bygul bucked his head against my hand in protest of my pets having stopped, and I scratched beneath his chin. Freyr was nearly upon us, and so, when answering, I kept my voice hushed.
“I need only be there for him then, and the storm will pass on its own?”
“When ready. Sometimes storms are needed for growth anew.”
