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Moons of Our Fathers

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Lady Sigyn is not meant for life amidst the Aesir royals - or so she thinks. A spinning revitalization on Norse Mythology, follow the tale of star-crossed lovers, the Goddess of FIdelity and her Mischief Maker. A thrilling coming-of-age romance, where our characters are forced to face the question: are our destinies sealed? Or are we allowed the agency to change? Subtle Marvel References though based mostly on Prose Edda and Lokasenna. Not for real publishing, mostly for my own entertainment. I do not own Norse Myth. I do not own the subtle Marvel References. Not fanfiction. Not in the Marvel Universe.

Fantasy / Romance
Age Rating:

Hard Game

"Your mother would have known better."

The accusation rings heavy overhead as you hurry to gather your things. The silence of the Library rings even louder as your pulse escalates, the low thump of blood all you can hear behind your ears. Matron Gerd watches you carefully, hands folded neatly behind her back. Your peers whisper amongst themselves, gentle giggles behind hands and raised eyebrows. Your cheeks grow hot as you shove your quills and parchment into your bag, throwing it carelessly over your shoulder. Head down, you turn to escape the growing embarrassment that is surely here to swallow you whole - only to trip on the laces of your boots. As your palms hit the marble floor, you are suddenly forced to reckon with the speed of which you left your lodgings this morning. Late for your studies, the tying of shoelaces seemed like a perfect waste of time.

Now, pulling yourself to your feet and running through the heavy oaken doors - it seemed far more important.

Gerd was right, of course. Freya would have known better. Head of her year and King Odin's personal Valkyrie, Lady Freya was a force to be reckoned with. Even Sif, Goddess of War, could not rival her - though how she tried. For while Odin found Sif to be a formidable soldier in the field, it was Freya he sent to silence Asgard's enemies in the dark of night. She held a seat on the High Council that not even Odin's closest informants could not question. She was calm, she was collected, she was unyielding.

And she most certainly remembered to wake up in time to make her lessons - and even better, she would most certainly have tied her shoes.

You snort, increasing your pace as you hurry down the palace halls. It is still early - the orange light of dawn barely streaking across Asgard's twilight sky - forever encased in the throes of lavender and pink. The locals that walk the halls at this hour are servants, readying the palace for a day of work and duty. You duck your head as a group of dusty stable boys hurry past you, yawning and rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Alfhid, Asgard's finest cook, is bright-eyed as she barrels around the corner - with three young bakers behind her, chatting gently amidst themselves as they lug the day's grain and flour to the ovens deep below Odin's Hall. They turn a corner to descend deep into the cellars and you pause - looking after them. One of the baker's drops an apple core - remnants of breakfast - and you are reminded quickly of perhaps the one person on the palace that may understand your certain grief. With a quick turn of your heels, you hurry back toward the center of the palace. The candles are lit, gently lighting the main passageways in a muddled gold. Curtains of Odin's crest flank you on either side, and suddenly the firelight is no longer candles but hovering flames - bewitched to stay lit under Odin's careful watch. But instead of entering the bronze doors carefully designed with images of Odin's successful reign, you take a sharp left turn - through the marble arches of Frigga's Courtyard.

Queen Frigga, while a celebrated botanist, did not have the time to care for her own collection of plant-life, gathered from every realm from Helheim and beyond. As she grew older and her list of duties grew longer, she was forced to hand her garden off to another experienced herbologist whom she trusted to care for her seedlings. And that herbologist was none other than Lady Idunn - your eldest sibling.

She is tending the Tree - Asgard's most prized and guarded specimen yet. You watch in silence for a moment, wringing your hands in your dress as Idunn carefully runs her fingers across the ancient bark. The cracks in the wood produce a soft glow as Idunn whispers quietly to the Tree of Immortality. The hum of seidr hangs overhead, and the leaves ripple under her touch. Idunn smiles as she steps back from her handiwork, her gaze following up its branches as the Tree flowers beneath her hands. Idunn holds open her hands and in a sudden pulse of bright light - one golden apple falls from the branches, and lands gently within her palms. It is a practiced ritual, one recognized from the Days of Old. The birth of Immortality and the tale of Frigga's Tree spans all of Asgard's history. While once protected and raised by Frigga and her mother before her, the Tree now rests under Idunn's practiced hands. You watch as your sister carefully pockets the apple in her overcoat, buttoning the pocket to prevent the fruit from falling free. Finished with her early morning duties, Idunn turns to deliver the apple to the Kitchens to complete the ritual, but pauses at the sight of her sister, lingering in the archway.

"Sigyn?" she questions, raising a perfect eyebrow in speculation. "What are you doing here? Were your lessons cancelled?" she asks, although suspicion laces her tone.

You are perturbed by Idunn's inability to trust you - nevermind that the suspicion is called for. "No." you answer firmly - better to respond in truth than beat around the bush. "No, they were not cancelled."

You pause and Idunn frowns. "And?" she questions.

You bite your lip. "I was late..." you begin, hesitating, watching your sister's expression in an attempt to interpret how much of your day was safe to reveal so early in the morning. "I was late, and Matron Gerd, she was already in a foul mood. And I wasn't wearing my veil because I had left it in our dormitories. I wasn't wearing the correct shoes either, because they pinch my toes -" you look away suddenly, deciding it was best to not meet Idunn's gaze. Your voice trembles and you pick up speed with every word,

"So Gerd was already upset and she tried to ridicule me in front of the others. She said I would never thrive in Asgard and that I should go back to Vanaheim to our Father - so I called her a right foul witch and damned her to Helheim." you manage, taking a deep breath.

There is silence - an expected response from Idunn who is trained in thinking before she speaks. It is a skill you obviously lack.

She sighs heavily, moving to lean against the Garden's archway. "Sigyn, if you want to stay within the Palace, you will need to learn to hold your tongue - not to mention the remaining Lady-in-Waiting duties you must perfect. What will the Queen think of me if you fail? I vouched for you when even mother wouldn't."

Your shoulders sag, crest-fallen. You had not forgotten what Idunn has risked by bringing you under her wing. But even with the curt reminder that you could bring dishonor upon your sister with one misstep, you still couldn't seem to follow directions.

As you and your siblings grew older, all of Asgard waited with bated breath for the daughter's of Freya to emerge into society. Each brought their own set of skills to the table. Idunn was a practiced herbologist, Nanna a skilled healer - even Hnossa, rumored to have been conceived outside of your mother's tenacious marriage, was considered a natural adventurer, traversing the realms and bringing gifts back home. One after another, they left Vanaheim for the Asgardian Palace and were provided lodging under Odin's right hand. Everyone except you - who somehow failed to blossom. And while Freya attempted to force you into every career imaginable - healer, warrior, magician, herbalist, historian, adventurist, even entertainer - you fell short. Your tutors merely tutted in your presence, shaking their heads as they longed for one of Freya's actual daughters to sit under their tutelage.

It had appeared that Freya had met her match in her youngest daughter. Rather than face ridicule from those beneath her, she readied you to return to Vanaheim to your father, in the hopes that the dwarves could find a place suitable for you amidst their ranks. It had been Idunn that had suggested you sit under the ancient Matron Gerd in the hopes that you would qualify and test to be a Lady-in-Waiting to Queen Frigga. The Queen took new students under her wing as her Ladies every Moonrise. Those that served under her grew to be exceptional ladies of the Court, serving in a multitude of capacities in the Palace. Even those that did not shine quite as bright as their peers were able to quickly find a suitable husband under which they could serve and provide heirs.

This was your last chance. It was only under Idunn's suggestion had Queen Frigga allowed you to train under Gerd. The role of a Lady-in-Waiting was a great honor, and one that came with great humility. Queen Frigga was to go unquestioned, even if she were to demand the most ridiculous of needs. They were to remain silent, humble, and avoid all contact with those outside of their station. They dressed in humble attire, matching Frigga's gold opulence in a quiet periwinkle. Even their faces were covered by a silk tulle veil, only to be removed in Frigga's chambers or their own dormitories. It was the far from a role of grandeur, but it did secure a station within the Palace. Besides, Queen Frigga was kind. She valued the traditions of her Ladies-In-Waiting, and therefore did not question them - but many knew she would see more power given to her Ladies if she had her say. But while she was kind, the Queen wasn't foolish - she would not take just any young girl under her wing. Those that met the Queen's standards were fit to be called an Aesir and provided Immortality within the Court - Immortality that came from the golden apples that Idunn held dear.

You shake your head. "I'm sorry, Idunn. I just don't know if I'm fit for Palace life. Perhaps I would be better in the mines with father. I can't even meet the Matron's desires. Why would she recommend me to serve the Queen?"

Idunn sighs and takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "There is still time. Gerd hasn't expelled you, yes?"

"Not audibly, no. Although I can't imagine she hasn't considered it."

Idunn laughs. "Then it is not official. She would send her recommendation to remove you to the Queen. After all, it is Lady Frigga who has the final say. After all - you only have a few more days until Moonrise, yes? Where the Queen will pick her Ladies?"

"If I can make it that long, yes."

Idunn shakes her head. She unbuttons her pocket, removing the golden apple and holding it tight against her chest. "I trust that you can." she utters softly, her gaze kind. "Just a few more days, Sigyn. If you are not chosen, Heimdall will send you back to Vanaheim as you wish. But until then, have faith."

With a small dip of her head, Idunn steps past you, back into the firelit corridors. You watch her go, the tails of her yellow robes dancing behind her as she turns a corner. You turn back to the Tree of Immortality, watching the leaves shift in the breeze.

"Only a few more days."

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