Forged by Fate fotg-1

by Amalia Dillin

  “An improvement from the dirt, isn’t it?”

  “Should the dirt have bothered me?” She wrapped her arms around herself. There was no safety here. And Adam’s hand burned hot against her back, slipping around her waist and pulling her against him.

  “It won’t now.” He turned her to face him and lifted her chin, staring into her eyes. Images of the two of them filled her head, their bodies interlocked, moving together in the bed of fronds. “We won’t be interrupted here.”

  Her heart beat faster, and her breath caught. She closed her eyes against the images, but it didn’t help. They intensified without the backdrop of what her vision told her. Damp skin and too much warmth, his body atop hers, pressing her down. Something uncoiled inside her, and the heat of Adam’s hands spread lower, lower, lower.

  “I—I’m not bothered by the others.” Right now, she would have given anything for someone to find them in the cave. To have some need of Adam and call him away.

  His hand moved to her cheek. “Open your eyes, Eve.” I’ll not have you thinking of anything but me.

  The images became more powerful. She could feel his hands on her. Smell their sweat and something else mixed with it. Eve struggled to breathe, to separate herself from his thoughts. She looked at him, driven by the desperation to free herself more than his command. His eyes were hard and gray, lit with something she didn’t know, and then his mouth covered hers, crushing and demanding.

  She tried to gasp, to pull free, but he only forced his tongue into her mouth as her lips parted and pulled her more tightly against his body. He pressed against her, hard and lean and searing, his thoughts burning behind her eyes, impossible to escape. She sobbed and turned her face away, but his mouth only moved along her jaw instead, his fingers digging painfully into her waist.

  She felt his distaste a moment before he shoved her from him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It was enough to keep her from stumbling to the floor, but only just.

  His eyes raked over her body and his lip curled. “I should’ve had one of the women bathe you first.”

  She wiped at her own mouth and face, leaning against the cool stone wall. Her heart still pounded against her chest and her whole body trembled from the loss of his heat.

  “Go. Find one of them. Tell them I require them to help you. You taste like sand and dirt, and I want none of it.” He spit into the grasses on the floor and turned away from her.

  She didn’t wait for him to ask her again.

  Chapter Nine: 985 BC

  Thor stood on a wooded hill, looking down on one of the simple fishing villages of his people, of Odin’s people. Would they ever rise to the same potential as the other civilizations he’d seen? The Egyptians. The Assyrians. He grimaced, thinking of all the wars of those nations. He almost wished they wouldn’t. That they might be spared that heartache and live their lives in peace.

  Booming laughter was punctuated by the shrill shouts of women. The fields glowed golden with wheat inland, and beyond them, goats and cows grazed peacefully. In the village itself, dogs and children barked and played together outside their huts. He smiled slightly. At least they were happy. Certainly the men seemed to be. He could not be sure of the women, but after spending time with the House of Lions, it was hard to look on any other people without imagining how different things could be for them.

  It had been a fruitful visit, to be sure, but he had been forced to stay much longer than he intended among Eve’s people, in order to convince them of his honesty. It was years before they had come to an agreement, and in exchange for the information they had given him, he had promised them good weather, and protection for Eve for as long into the future as the gods remained present in the world. It hadn’t been an opportunity they could refuse, though they took their time about it.

  “Thor!” A hand clapped him heavily on the shoulder, and he turned to see Odin. The god’s scarred face was split by a grin. “Baldur was beginning to worry you would not find your way back to us.” Odin chuckled, his eyes, as gray as his beard, crinkling at the corners. “And it goes without saying that your wife has made us all miserable in your absence. Another year and I might have sent her in search of you, just to spare the rest of Asgard.”

  Thor frowned. Perhaps it wasn’t for all women to be left to rule their own lives. “I will see her first, of course. I had not anticipated being gone so long, but I believe you will be pleased with everything I have learned.”

  “I am always pleased with you, Thor. Come.” Odin’s grip on Thor’s shoulder firmed and the air around them thickened, the view of the village melting into the stone of Asgard, high above the earth. They’d done so much since he’d left. Carefully tended gardens had been built around Yggdrasil and a new crop of golden apples winked between dusky red leaves. His mother’s tree welcomed him home with its bounty.

  He took a moment to breathe in the scent of its fruit, like honey and wine, his gaze traveling over the halls that surrounded these central grounds. A building that could only have been Baldur’s work stood beside Odin’s great hall, modest in size, but made of white marble and roofed with shining silver. A smaller skáli standing opposite was gilt with gold, dwarfed by a greenhouse behind it which was filled to overflowing with plants from across the earth, all in full flower and heavy with fruits and nuts. Two boars rooted in the dirt of the gardens out front, one with golden bristles, and a pair of tuft-eared cats lounged in the sun by the doorway.

  “I see Freyr and Freyja have made themselves comfortable,” Thor said, nodding to the hall. “The others have settled well?”

  “As well as they always have. Freyr and Baldur are disappointed that living in the heavens keeps them from the sea, but such is the cost of sharing a world. Better that we keep our safety and our skins,” Odin said. “Go find your wife and assure her that you missed her. The rest will wait until supper.”

  Odin slapped Thor’s back and strode off toward his hall without waiting for a response. A raven cawed and swooped at the sight of its master, landing on the stone windowsill nearest the entrance. His father stopped to give orders to one of his Valkyries, and then Odin collected the bird and disappeared through the great silver doors. Thor could already hear the stir in the kitchen as news of his return spread and servants began preparations for the celebration. Odin would not permit anything less than a feast in honor of his first son’s homecoming.

  “Sif,” Thor said to himself, wondering what trouble she had caused while he was away. Surely she could not have been too difficult. He had made sure the home he’d built for her was furnished with everything she could possibly desire, and Odin had promised to provide her with anything else she might need.

  He turned toward his own home, and followed the stone path around Yggdrasil and Valaskjalf. Sif had planted a garden of her own in front of the cottage, and he smiled to see his goats, Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr, grazing. Thor stopped to let them remember him, and Tanngnjóstr butted his hand with its head, bleating, until he scratched the goat around the curled horns and behind the ear. At least the goats had been some company for Sif in his absence.

  He settled the animals and opened the door to the cottage. “Sif!”

  The front room was homey, a fire burning low in the hearth, and filled with the things he recognized from their old world. Tapestries she had woven, of his mother’s tree and the old Asgards, hung on the wall. She had found fabrics in bright colors to cover the armchairs he had made, stuffing the cushions with wool.

  Thor pushed open the door to the bedroom, a smile on his lips. It was as though she divined his needs, to be waiting for him there. Perhaps one of the Valkyries had sent word while he stood with Odin beneath the tree.

  And then he froze, his mind catching up to the sight that greeted him. He felt his eyes burn white, washing all color from the room.

  Thor’s hand closed around a war-hammer he did not hold, aching to bring it smashing down on the black-haired head that hovered over his wife’s breasts as s
he arched her back with a moan. Thunder cracked so loudly the stone foundation shook beneath his feet, and the goats outside began to bleat.

  Loki glanced back over his shoulder, a sly grin on his face as Sif cried out with pleasure. The Trickster did not even pause, his eyes glazing as he moaned his own release.

  Responding to his fury, dark clouds formed, blotting the sun, which had previously streamed through the windows of the cottage. Loki’s sharp chuckle snapped him free of his paralysis and Thor crossed the room in one long stride. He grabbed the Trickster off Sif’s body by the back of the neck, throwing him through the window. Stone, glass, and wood shattered, leaving a gaping, splintered hole.

  Loki still laughed as he picked himself up off the stone-cobbled ground on the other side of the wall. The Trickster smirked and brushed himself off, unashamed by his nakedness, though under the storm clouds his skin had a sallow hue, and the shadows beneath his eyes were so dark he might have worn a polecat’s mask. Thunder rumbled and Thor stalked toward him, unwilling to so much as glance at his wife, sputtering objections and imprecations from the bed.

  “What do you expect, Thor, when you leave Sif for centuries to live among humans?”

  Thor didn’t trust himself to speak. The sky overhead darkened even further as black clouds swirled over Loki’s head. A single lightning bolt, charged with his hate, was all it would take. Once, Loki might have been his friend, even an uncle in his youth, but those days had ended long ago. It had taken only a single cycle of Ragnarok for Thor to understand the Trickster’s true nature. Jealous and cruel, Loki had been a thorn in his side for millennia, but never had he believed him capable of so base a betrayal.

  “Thor!” Sif’s voice distracted him, drawing his attention from the Trickster. “Control yourself!”

  He growled and turned back to Loki, even more intent to destroy him, but Sif had given him the moment he needed to slip away. Without a focus for his anger, the thunder boomed and the lightning dissipated between the clouds.

  Thor spun to grab his wife by the arm, broken glass crunching beneath his boots. He hauled her bodily from the room, ignoring her squawk of protest. Loki might not be in sight, but he would be lurking, listening, ready to twist the words he heard into lies. When Thor released Sif in the front room of the cottage, she all but fell into one of the armchairs.

  “You dare to chastise me?” Part of him recognized he was shouting more loudly than the thunder that still rolled overhead, but he could not quiet his voice. “You dare to allow that filthy rakki between your legs?”

  Sif righted herself and stood, proud in all her naked glory. Her golden hair cascaded down her shoulders to her navel, covering her left breast. She closed her hands into fists and raised her chin in defiance.

  “You couldn’t even be bothered to wait until I had arrived before satisfying your curiosity about these feeble creatures, and you object to the fact that I found my own interests in your absence?”

  “I was ordered, you fool! By Odin’s command!” He grabbed her again by her arms and shook her. He was barely able to moderate his tone, but when he continued, it was with a volume which did not cause the walls to shudder. “To return home to this betrayal! This faithlessness!”

  “As if you weren’t planting your seed among the mortals while you were away,” she sneered.

  He found himself growling again, and his hands tightened involuntarily on her body until she hissed. Thor forced himself to relax, open his hands, release her. He took a deep breath and stepped back.

  “Unlike you, Sif, I do not cast aside my vows so easily for the first pleasure which presents itself. Could you not have chosen someone less offensive, at least? He is not even Aesir!”

  Her eyes flashed gold in her anger. “Loki’s reputation as a lover is hardly undeserved, as he proved to me repeatedly.”

  His hands balled into fists and he clenched his teeth so hard that the bones creaked under the stress. “Get. Dressed.”

  She glared at him. “And if I refuse to take orders from a man who abandoned me for more than three centuries?”

  “I’m your husband!” The window rattled, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care if all of Asgard was listening to their argument. He would not suffer this. Would not accept it.

  “Are you?”

  The coldness in her voice was like a knife in his stomach, and he felt his knuckles crack as he stepped toward her, as if her words were a challenge and he must fight. It was all he could do to transport himself out of the house to keep from striking her in the rage that consumed him at the blow of her words, but he managed. Just. Lightning flashed brilliant white, crawling over his skin and dissolving the walls around him, the stone floor beneath his feet, and Sif. Out of his reach at last.

  Valaskjalf materialized around him, with servants in the midst of the preparations for his homecoming.

  Odin looked up, the gray eyebrow of his false eye rising. He had lost the eye long ago, but he did not often show the scar. Twice in his life, Thor had seen the gaping black hole where the eye should have been, both times deliberate reminders of Odin’s right to rule. But Thor had yet to master his father’s trick of utter calm, and his own eyes bled white, burning hot.

  “Ah,” Odin said. “Yes. Perhaps I should have warned you to knock.”

  He stood and crossed the room, causing the large raven on his shoulder to launch itself into the rafters of the building with a loud croak. Odin guided Thor to a seat and called for drink.

  “I will kill them both with my bare hands.”

  Odin shook his head. “You will not.”

  A serving girl appeared at Thor’s elbow with a mug of mead. He wrenched the mug from her hand and brought it to his mouth so quickly the drink did not have time to slosh. He held the empty mug out to her, glaring, for more. She filled it again at once.

  “And why not?” Thor did not immediately pour this second dose down his throat, but stared into the amber liquid. “It is my right. She is my wife. Loki has given me grave insult.”

  Odin shooed the girl away and when Thor looked up, his father’s expression was unmoved. “You will not, for it is not my wish to have two of my number struck down before I am sure of our safety in this world. Loki will be forbidden to touch your wife again, and cast to the earth to walk among men for a century, unable to touch their women as well. Sif’s punishment I leave in your hands, but it will not be death. This is my command, Thor.”

  He downed the second cup of mead and glowered at his father. “You ask much of me.”

  “You will obey, nonetheless.”

  Thor threw the mug across the room. It crashed into the far wall and clanged against the floor, sending the other servants bolting for the kitchen. “Then I must go.”

  “You’ve only just arrived, Thor. The banquet is already being prepared.”

  “I do not trust myself not to kill him. If you wish me to obey, I must leave. My fingers itch to encircle his throat even now and I will not sit with him at table and share food and drink!”

  Odin sighed. “And Sif’s punishment?”

  Sif. Faithless Sif. He found his hands in fists again. After all this time, she would turn from him? Deny their marriage? “Cut off her hair. And let no god touch her until I have returned.”

  “As you wish.” Odin studied him for a long moment, his expression still reluctant. “Return as swiftly as you can. I am anxious to learn what you have discovered.”

  Thor stood, relieved that he would not have to stay a moment longer. “Thank you, Odin-Father.”

  Odin gripped his shoulder once more in farewell, and then released him. “Go. Find what peace you may.”

  Thor closed his eyes, searching the earth for the bright light of her familiar presence, not knowing what it would bring him, but needing at least that much purpose, at least that much distraction. And then the lightning wrapped around him and he was gone.

  Her back to him, she knelt along the bank of a stream, scrubbing cloth against stones to remove the fi
lth. She hummed softly to herself. Thor watched her for a long moment, the way her hair caught the sunlight as it danced between the branches of the trees, the way her body moved with grace even while working at such a menial task. She sat back and he realized she was washing her own clothing, naked from the waist up but for what modesty her hair allowed. He inhaled deeply, catching the scent of juniper and sunshine, and the tension left his shoulders.

  Thor had no idea where he was in the world, did not care in the slightest. He pulled the language of the area directly from Eve’s own mind, and he bent to the ground to darken his hair and his skin with dirt as well as he was able. Perhaps he should have begged Odin to alter his appearance before he left, but it was too late now, and he hadn’t really known what he was doing until he arrived here. He would make do. As long as he remained calm, his eyes would stay an un-alarming shade of blue.

  He stepped out from the cover of the trees and called a soft greeting.

  Eve spun, her humming abruptly cut off, and looked at him with wide eyes. She pulled the garment from the water and covered herself with it.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, still keeping his voice gentle.

  She searched his face, and Thor stayed where he was, trying not to scare her further. He wasn’t sure what he was doing. But it felt right. More so than anything else he could have done.

  After a moment, she relaxed enough to smile. “If you would turn around, please, so I can dress.”

  Thor nodded and turned his back to her, concentrating on his reflection in the water. The surface rippled, and he frowned as he saw his hair darken from the dirty red-gold, to a natural light brown. There was movement reflected in the trees and he searched for the source. A raven croaked. Odin, then. The rest of his body altered as his hair had, his skin darkening to a bronze tan over paler skin.

  Why? he asked, silently.

  Find what peace you may, and return. Until then, do what you must. None will be able to find you until you reach once again for Asgard.