Ever
Cursing herself for the hundred and tenth time, Ever winced as she rechecked to make sure her shields were iron tight. The memory she’d shared with Derek—or had he shared it with her?—had startled her. Until Ever was ready to deal with the implications of what had led her and Derek to the present, she wanted to keep him in the dark. Not because she was afraid of who she was, but because she was terrified of losing him.
You should be more concerned with losing your head than losing your lover.
With a sigh, Ever shook the nagging voice out of her head and snuck a glance at her phone. A text awaited her from Derek.
Dinner tonight?
Chewing on her bottom lip, Ever considered her options. She could go have dinner with him, but then she’d be forced to tell more lies and see the hurt in his eyes. Or she could blow him off and push him further away.
Her fingers glided over the screen as she typed out a response and pressed send.
Too many papers to grade. Dinner soon.
Setting the smartphone on the table, Ever leaned back into her chair. Her skin itched and she felt restless. Tapping her foot against the floor, the impending arrival of her first-year students only frayed the edges of her nerves further. The feelings of restlessness stemmed back to last night, when she had watched Erika leave to go to work with P.I.T. while she was stuck at home. Ever wanted to jump into the action, wanted to work with P.I.T., but how could she convince them she was competent enough without revealing her secret?
She couldn’t.
Her phone buzzed again, and she glanced down at the screen.
Ok. Don’t work too hard. Make sure to get some rest. X
Damn him for being so caring; he was making it hard to stay away. Today was going to be a long day, especially since her lesson plan involved werewolves.
Her students began trickling in then, all wide eyed and curious. Before Derek, P.I.T., and learning about her past, Ever had loved teaching the first years. These were their first steps into adulthood, and these students craved knowledge and took to the learning experience as if they needed it to breathe. They had yet to become jaded by exactly how cold and demanding the world was, and their enthusiasm was infectious. Ever had been like that, too—thirsty for knowledge—but now that her life had been rear-ended, the thirst seemed to have dried up. When everyone had taken a seat, she began her lecture, trying to keep her mind off the one wolf whom she craved more than her next breath.
“So, you guys all know the story of Cú Chulainn, the boy originally known as Sétanta, who slayed the Hound of Culain. He did so in self-defence, but afterwards he offered to take the hound’s place until a new hound could be reared. This is the Irish myth most of us have known our whole lives, but a few details were left out of the original tale to prevent panic amongst the townsfolk.”
Ever looked up at her students, some scribbling in notebooks, others leaning forward, their chins resting in their hands as they listened. Moving over to her projector and pressing play, images of folklore appeared on the screen as she continued to speak.
“What the lore neglected to mention was that Culain had a powerful druid within his castle walls, and when Cú Chulainn’s request to take over the position of hound was granted, Culain decided Cú Chulainn needed to become one. So, the druid cast a spell and gave Cú Chulainn the ability to turn into a hound. But along with his ability to turn into a hound, poor Cú Chulainn also gained a terrible battle frenzy called ríastrad, which is translated as ‘warp spasm’ in many mythology books.
The legend of Cú Chulainn is possibly the first recorded proof of the supernatural outside of magic. It is speculated that Cú Chulainn was the first werewolf in the world, and all werewolves are descended from him. Or perhaps he is the first Irish werewolf because the druid had to get the idea from somewhere, right?”
Resting a hip against her desk, Ever smiled as rows of eager eyes watched her.
“I have a little fun assignment for ye, and yes, I will put it towards your final grade. There is no wrong answer; everyone will be marked on creativity and effort. What I want is for you to look at the stories of your youth, the fables and fairy tales, and retell the story for me using what we now know about the supernatural community. Don’t make it easy like rewriting “Little Red Riding Hood” and telling me the wolf was a shapeshifting werewolf…”
A little laugh rang through the lecture hall.
“Make it interesting and come up with a conclusion. Any story, any fable—take the rest of the class to brainstorm. Use the weekend to research in depth, and most of all, enjoy it.”
A hand sprang up, and Ever nodded her head for them to speak.
“Can we work in pairs or groups if we want?”
“Of course. But if you work in pairs or groups, I want a full presentation—PowerPoints and all.”
A collective groan rang through the crowd, but they all seemed to branch off into different little groups or pairs.
As the class brainstormed their assignment, Ever made her way around her desk, sat down in front of her laptop, and typed out an email to Erika. She waited a brief few minutes for a response.
Everything went ok. Deets later on. Boyband’s in foul humour—you turn him down again?
The bell rang out for the end of class, and Ever bade her students farewell before she gathered her own belongings, slipped into her coat, and headed out to grab a coffee. She had some time before her final class of the day and wanted to get out into the crisp, fresh air.
Making her way across the quad to the quaint little coffee shop on campus, Ever considered texting Derek back and inviting him over for an hour or two. She made lists in her mind of the pros and cons as she ordered her coffee and managed to snag a seat under a heater.
Setting her phone on the table, Ever took a sip of her drink, shivering as the warm liquid worked its way down her throat. Then, holding the mug in her hands, she stared out at the hustle and bustle of campus life.
“Ever.”
The sound of her name caught Ever’s attention.
“Dr. Val, hi. What brings you to our campus today?”
The older woman frowned at her, the cheerful disposition Ever had known while trying to track down Stephen Donnelly suddenly gone. A nagging sensation grew in the pit of Ever’s stomach, and a dull ache in her head forced her to rub at her temples.
“Don’t fight it. Let it happen.”
Confused by the doctor’s words, Ever closed her eyes and breathed in and out until the pain in her temple went away. When she opened her eyes again, it was not Dr. Val Frey who had taken a seat in front of her, but her mother, Freya.
“Freya.”
Ever’s words came out so hushed that she thought the other woman had not heard her. Gone was whatever magic Freya had used to disguise herself. Instead, a woman who could have been in her mid-thirties instead of centuries old reclined in the seat across from her. Her hair was a rich brown with hints of highlights through it—Ever knew it was a natural reaction to the sun—with eyes that were also a rich shade of brown, almost hazel. Freya’s features were not like Ever’s own. The woman was a striking beauty, and Ever could understand where the stories of men who’d pledged their love to the goddess of love had come from.
“You have many questions, no doubt, but we have more pressing issues at hand.”
Cold, precise, and void of emotion—exactly like the Freya in her memories.
“You can’t just show up here,” Ever began with a hiss, “and demand something from me, Freya. I told Erika I did not want to see you.”
“I do not bow down to orders from a general.”
“They were not Erika’s orders. They were from your—” Despite the anger boiling inside her, Ever could not bring herself to say the word… She wasn’t even sure which word she was leaning towards.
Freya smirked, relaxed into her seat, and folded her arms across her chest. “My what? Daughter? Or queen? Right now, you are neither, and that needs to change.”
“I don’t want this life. I didn’t ask for it.”
“Stop whining, Ever. It’s beneath you.”
Ever gripped her mug so tightly it cracked, spilling some of the contents onto her hands, but she barely felt it. Frightened by her strength, she set the cup down before turning back to Freya.
“I don’t know why you came here today; I don’t even care. I wasn’t ready for this. The memories I’m having—the memories that I’ve had—they don’t exactly paint you in a positive light.”
A flicker of emotion crossed Freya’s features. “I did what I had to, to keep you safe. I owe you no explanations.”
“Tell me something, then. Please,” Ever asked nicely. “Why do I remember him being nice? Being my father?”
Freya rolled her shoulders. “He was a good father. Was. But the death of his wife changed him. Hardened him. It was as if he shut off the switch to his emotions. All that mattered was power after that. The part that made him your father died along with Frigg.”
An undertone of sadness weaved its way into Freya’s words. Did Freya actually love Odin?
“How did I come about then?”
Freya snorted, rolling her eyes. “I was young, foolish, and in love. It was before he met Frigg, when he was sowing his wild oats and bedding any goddess he could. Around the same time I became pregnant with you, Jörð became pregnant with Thor. Then Odin met and married Frigg, who took over Thor’s upbringing, and I was tasked with raising you to be a warrior.”
“Do you understand how surreal this is for me?” Ever asked. “I’m sitting here with the woman who gave birth to me, talking about my legendary father and brother, having just finished teaching a mythology class. A month ago, I was a normal girl falling in love, and now my world is being turned upside down.”
Freya ran her fingers through her hair, and Ever was struck by how human the gesture was. It was then it hit her—not only was the woman in front of her a supposed mythical creature of great strength, but Ever was as well.
“It has not been a picnic for me to watch my only birthed child die over and over because she has made stupid decisions. I never condoned this curse you placed upon yourself. I never wanted this for you. But time is running out, Ever, and we need you to win. If he takes over Valhalla once more, your systirs will be forced to return to being the playmates of Berserkers and gods who do not value a Valkyrie’s strength.”
Ever opened her mouth to speak, but Freya cut across her. “You may not remember, but you have put that damned man ahead of your people for so long. If you falter, if you fail, then it is those of us who remain that will suffer.”
“You have no right to demand anything from me. All you’ve ever done is push me to do things I never wanted to do in the first place.”
Freya tilted her head. “The general was right; you do see me as a monster. Perhaps I was too soft on you in the beginning. Let me show you.”
Freya’s hand gripped her own in a blur of movement. As soon as their hands connected, a shock of electricity shuddered through Ever’s body and she was catapulted into a memory.
Standing on the outskirts of the memory, present-day Ever watched as a young woman bent over a Moses basket and scooped up a crying babe. She cradled the babe to her chest, growling at the wet nurse who tried to take the baby from her.
“She is my child and I will see to her needs.”
Ever was startled at the sound of Freya’s voice. As Freya peered at the baby in her arms, a mass of blonde hair and blue eyes stared back at her. Mother and daughter held each other’s gaze, then Freya screamed at the people clambering around the room to leave.
The room looked as if it were in a small wooden chalet, probably in Valhalla as Ever could smell the ocean in the air. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore soothed her soul.
Waiting until she was sure that they were alone in the room, Freya began to speak with her small child.
“This is not the life I wished for any child of mine. There are times when you will hate me and times you’ll wish to be anywhere but near me. But, my fairest Ever, never doubt that you are loved. Because I did not know the depths of love until I held you in my arms.”
Ever felt it then, the outpouring of love that Freya had felt in that moment.
Freya pressed her lips to the now cooing baby’s forehead. “Please do not despise me too much, Ever. My heart and my sword are always yours to command.”
The door to the chalet swung open, and in strode Odin. A smile as wide as the sea creased his features and made him look handsome. His eyes passed over Freya to the baby in her arms.
“Let me hold my daughter, Freya.”
“You cannot have her. She is mine to keep.”
“Remember your place, woman. I am your king. I merely wish to hold my child.”
Freya gingerly placed the baby in Odin’s arms. “Make any attempt to leave with her and I will cut you down.”
“What could I do with a girl, Freya? You will bring her up and raise her to be a Valkyrie. She will be fierce, and she will be lethal. My gift to her will be Valhalla. I will make her queen over the Valkyrie; they will be hers to command. All that I ask is to be part of her life, visit as often as I can. Perhaps she could one day meet her brothers.”
“I’m sure she would like that.”
Ever noticed that Freya had yet to take her hand off the dagger on her hip she had clutched when Odin had come in. So willing to protect her, even then. The memory fast-forwarded, but Freya did not release the blade until Ever was in her arms once more and Odin was headed to the door.
“What name have you chosen for her?”
“Ever.”
“A strange name for a Valkyrie warrior. I would like her to have a name given by her father, also,” Odin said, a determined look on his face. “She shall also be known as Kyria, an old and powerful Norse name.”
“It is an honour she will wear proudly.”
Ever came back to the present with a lurch, her hand slamming down on the table to stop her from keeling over. Staring at Freya, Ever noticed a soft sheen in her eyes.
“How could you love someone so strongly and treat them as if they were nothing; as if I were nothing?”
“You had two powerful parents—gods among mortals. We had a long list of enemies who would have used you as leverage if we had publicly shown affection towards you. We did—I did—what was necessary to keep you alive. I did the best I could. Maybe if you live long enough to become a mother, you might understand.”
Ever jerked out of her chair and rose to full stance. “I would not wish for a child to be brought into this world when he or she could be hunted for the crime of being borne of her parents. One gooey memory will not replace all the feelings she had for you, Freya.”
“She? Referring to yourself in the third person? You may think you are not her, Ever, but you sound more and more like the child I gave birth to every day. Say the words; remember what it was like to have the Aesir breathing down our necks. Get to your full strength and get ready. Soon he will awaken and the path to the future will be decided. Do you want to live, or do you want to die?”
Freya rose with a fluidity Ever only saw in supernatural creatures. “One more question. Did they treat you well, your human parents?”
“I was blessed with a childhood full of love, play, and learning.”
“I’m glad.”
The woman who gave birth to her walked away without another word. Ever watched her until the glint of winter sun no longer kissed the streaks in her hair. Gulping in a breath as Freya’s aura dissipated around her, Ever knew she’d see through the glamour any time she saw Freya from now on.
The shock of seeing her mother in the flesh washed over her, and a sob escaped. Despair, complete and utter despair, sank into her marrow as tears cascaded down her face. Her breathing hitched, and panic racked her lungs. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t escape it all.
Her phone rang on the table and she picked it up, pressing answer before she saw who was calling.
“Ever, hey, what’s going on? I can feel your emotions through the bond. Just breathe in slowly for me, love. And now out… you’re okay. It’s okay. Just listen to my voice.”
The sound of Derek’s voice calmed her. God, she missed him.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered into the phone.
“Nothing to be sorry about. Let me come get you?”
“No,” she said. “I’m okay. I’m sorry. I can’t…”
A low growl sounded over the phone. “You can’t do what, Ever?”
“I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry, Derek.”
She hung up the phone to the sound of her name being called. There was no way she could continue the path she was traveling. For the first time in a while, her mind was full of clarity.
Gathering up her stuff, Ever headed towards the dean’s office. It was time to quit her job.
Deep inside Asgard, the remaining gods held a meeting to discuss Ragnarok. Events that were foreseen had come to pass, while other events were still in their early stages. If the child failed to slay Odin, then they would be forced to act. They would not allow the Allfather, cruel and vicious in his grief, to ruin them all.
“Heimdall is dead, possibly slain by Loki himself. Who now will become Guardian of the Bifrost?”
“Heimdall’s replacement has not quite reached his fifth year. He is exactly where he is supposed to be,” said Gefjon.
“The boy needs to be ready now,” snapped Fulla.
Gefjon snorted. “Be quiet. The boy is too young yet to take up the mantle. I can assure you Heimdall’s soul has been reborn in the child. Give him time to grow.”
“I am afraid we do not have time, dearest Gefjon, to await the boy’s growth. The world is about to be shrouded in chaos.”
“Fulla, we are all aware of the consequences awaiting us, but we must have faith in the Valkyrie queen. She is the only one with the power to rewrite the future.”
“And what can we do to help? After all, she is family,” Lady Sif said, joining the conversation. She patted her husband, Thor, on the shoulder as he grunted.
“Yes, Ever is my family, and we must help her.”
The gods continued to talk amongst themselves, even as Gefjon sighed. “There is nothing more we can do right now. She must make the choice herself. She holds the fate of us all in the palm of her hand.”
The temple shook as Gefjon spoke. “He is waking, and he is angry.”