by S. T. Bende
She was healthy.
A second bed was set up to the right of Elsa’s. Healers stood at the ready, wearing the same white gowns I’d seen back at the cabin. For all intents, the setup looked like Elsa’s room had, with one exception: Henrik’s mechanical arm sat next to the bed.
What was Fred doing there? My mind started to piece everything together. It was more than a coincidence that Henrik and Brynn had been developing a robotic arm; and it was more than a coincidence that the arm was perfectly proportioned to Tyr’s body. None of this was possible, unless…
I whirled around. Henrik limped into the ward behind me.
“You knew this was going to happen.” I jabbed my finger into his chest. “You knew Tyr would lose an arm fighting Fenrir. You knew he might die! Why didn’t you stop him?”
Henrik wrapped both arms around my shoulders, pulling me to his chest, but he didn’t take his eyes off his friend. I turned my head so I could follow his stare. Freya and the healers were putting Tyr in position on the bed, and Henrik spoke directly to the medical team. “Once you’ve stopped the bleeding, we can attempt the transfer.”
“Henrik!” I tried to pull out of his grasp, but he was too strong. “What the—”
A hand clamped around my mouth. I fought every childish urge to bite it.
“Don’t aggravate them,” Henrik whispered in my ear. “Tyr’s losing a lot of blood. The healers need all their energy to save him. And Tyr needs to focus on getting better. If he’s worrying about you, he won’t make it. Do you understand?”
I ground my teeth and took a deep breath before I was able to nod. When Henrik pulled his hand away, I spoke quietly, in the calmest voice I could manage. “You could have kept him from fighting.”
“You and I both know that’s not true. Tyr has always fought his own battles… and anyone else’s, if he thinks they need him. I’ve been working around the clock to mitigate the outcome, but what happened today was always a possibility.”
“Why didn’t you stop it?” I turned in Henrik’s arms as healers circled around Tyr, obscuring my view. I wanted to scream, but Tyr couldn’t afford that distraction.
“Some things are out of our control. The best we can hope for is to minimize the damage. In this case, there was no getting around the prophecy.” Henrik kept his voice low.
My eyes narrowed. “And what exactly was the prophecy?”
“The Norns saw Fenrir turn on Asgard. They saw the dwarves make a chain to bind him, to slow his path of destruction. They saw the Aesir use Fenrir to bargain with the dark forces at Ragnarok.” Henrik lowered his head. “But before that, they saw…”
There was a commotion over Tyr’s bed. Two healers stepped away, then quickly returned with an oblong device. They ripped his shirt off and held the device up to Tyr’s chest. They left a small gap between them, enough that I could see the surge of light shoot through Tyr’s body. His chest jerked at the energy running through it. He convulsed violently, bucking against the power coursing under his skin. His body went still, and he turned a ghastly white.
The healers paused, and brought the god-defibrillator to his chest again. Another surge of light struck his chest, and this time his convulsions were more pronounced. His head whipped viciously back and forth while his legs kicked against the hands holding them down. It took a full minute for this surge to pass through him, and when it did his skin was an ashy grey.
The healers tried again, this time firing nine surges into Tyr’s torso in rapid succession. With each surge, his body convulsed ferociously, fighting against the power of the light.
Then he went limp. One foot twitched imperceptibly before his body fell completely still.
Freya started to cry.
I felt nothing. No fear. No pain. No sadness. Nothing. It was as if my entire emotional center completely shut down.
It felt like I’d died inside.
This was not happening. Tyr was just resting, gearing up for the next phase of his recovery. He was not in the same coma Elsa had been in. He was not dead. He was fine.
“Henrik?” My friend’s arms were still wrapped around my shoulders. “What was the rest of the prophecy? What did the Norns see after they saw the dwarves make the chain?”
“Mia, you have to understand. The dwarves said they would require the blood of the Aesir to bind the wolf. We knew one of us would have to make that sacrifice if we wanted to protect the realms from the evil growing within Fenrir. We’ve tried to cheat the darker prophecies for centuries, and we did everything we could to avoid losing one of our own. We convinced the dwarves to alter the power of the chain so it only required the sacrifice of a limb, not an entire life. It still wasn’t ideal, but losing an arm was a lot better than death, right?” Henrik squeezed me gently. “Tyr volunteered to take the hit. We knew the wolf would be more valuable to Asgard alive than dead, provided we could actually bind him. And deep down, I don’t think Tyr wanted to kill Fenrir. Even after everything that’s happened, a part of him still wanted to believe there was some good left in his childhood pet.”
I couldn’t speak.
“But there was another prophecy. One that fell between our binding the wolf and our using him at Ragnarok.”
“What did that prophecy say?” My words came through gritted teeth.
“It said the God of War would fall.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“I’M SORRY MIA. WE did everything we could think of to save… I’m so sorry.”
“No!” I opened my eyes and tried to bolt for Tyr, but Henrik held me too tight. “Let me go!” I thrashed against the hold as my eyes sought out the healers. “Do something. Try it again. If the defibrillator isn’t working, give him a shot of something magical. Dragon heart or elf blood or that älva dust—I know you have something in here that can help him. Use it! Now!”
Henrik glanced at Forse. The justice god stood at Elsa’s bedside, gently holding one of her hands. Something clicked in my brain.
“Wait! Elsa… Elsa can bring Tyr back. She’s a High Healer, isn’t she? That has to be important.” My eyes pleaded with Henrik.
“I could do what?” a raspy voice chimed. Elsa had woken up amidst the chaos. She looked around the room in confusion, her silvery blue eyes swimming as they focused on each of us in turn. Forse spoke her name as if in prayer, and hurriedly handed her the glass of water at her bedside. The water sloshed as her hand dipped under the weight of the cup, and Forse helped her steady it. She raised it to her lips and drank, her eyes locked on Forse’s in a way that made it clear she returned his feelings, and then some. He took the glass when she was done and placed it back on the table.
“You’re okay.” Forse’s torso practically wilted in relief.
Elsa reached up to touch Forse’s cheek before she looked around the room and cleared her throat. When she spoke again, the raspiness was replaced by a melodic lilt. “What’s Tyr done?”
Henrik glanced over in relief at the sound of Elsa’s voice. Brynn turned away from the window to face the room, her red-rimmed eyes now filled with hope. Even Freya stopped crying at Tyr’s bedside long enough to look up. Everyone had the decency to honor the moment they’d been waiting months for.
Everyone but me.
“Tyr’s dying! You have to save him right now!”
The tiny girl jumped at the sound of my demand. She’d just come out of a coma, and I was shrieking at her.
“Where is he?” Elsa pushed herself to her feet. She swayed unsteadily, and gripped the monitor to steady herself. Forse leaped to her side and guided her to her brother.
“He’s here, but he’s unconscious. Fenrir severed his arm with a poisoned bite, and he’s bleeding out. Is there anything you can do?” Forse’s voice was low. He was handling everything with considerably more dignity than me.
Well, of course he was. The person he loved was standing in his arms, and the person I loved…
I couldn’t even finish the thought.
“Oh my gods.” Elsa
’s blond hair whipped back and forth as she looked from her brother to Freya and Henrik. “How did it get this bad? Didn’t you use the—”
“Resuscitator? It failed,” Freya whispered. “The healers did everything they could. We don’t know what else to do.” Freya’s tears spilled over. “Please, Elsa. He can’t really be gone.”
“Stand back,” Elsa commanded. “Healers, you too.” All nine of us obeyed. Elsa was tiny—maybe five-foot-one if she stretched. She still didn’t look a day over eighteen, with her shiny golden locks and cherubic cheeks. But as she stood over her brother in her shimmering dressing gown, she stretched her arms out authoritatively, and a calm settled into her eyes. She looked every bit the magical goddess I needed her to be.
Elsa murmured an incantation in a language that sounded different from Tyr and Henrik’s—this dialect sounded ancient, simpler and more guttural than the bits of Swedish I’d picked up over the past few months.
“What’s she saying?” I looked at Freya. She stepped back to stand next to me. Henrik tightened his arms around my shoulders, and Freya took my hand in hers. I couldn’t tell if they were trying to comfort me or to hold me back.
“She’s calling on the High Healers of the allied realms, asking them to join together to heal Tyr,” Freya explained.
“Why didn’t you guys do that?” I practically spat it out.
“Elsa’s the only one who can do it.”
“Is it working?” I redirected my focus on Elsa. Her hands moved up and down over Tyr’s body. As she continued to chant, a gold glow came out of her fingertips. It covered the bed with a glittery sheen, wrapping Tyr in its shiny cloud.
“I don’t know.” Freya shook her head.
While we waited, Elsa reached for Fred. She positioned the arm at Tyr’s elbow, pinching the limb where it bled. By now, the white sheets were stained red, and Tyr’s skin was practically white. Please, hurry up. Elsa waved her hand over the metal and it bound itself to the skin. The smell of burning flesh filled the room as sparks shot from Elsa’s palm, soldering Fred to Tyr’s arm. The odor was cloying, but when Elsa stepped back Fred stayed in place.
We watched in silence while Elsa touched Tyr’s forehead, implanting Fred’s control panel in Tyr’s brain with magic rather than surgery, and then resumed working on Tyr’s chest. The tension in the air was palpable—Forse hovered at the edge of Elsa’s bed; Brynn had moved away from the window to grip Henrik’s shoulder. Freya and I huddled together, hands still tightly clasped as tears rolled down my face.
After a slow eternity, Elsa stepped back. She opened her eyes and stared at me.
“I’ve done all I can,” she spoke calmly. “The rest is up to you.”
I blinked. “What am I supposed to do?”
“What do you think?” She smiled.
I had no freaking idea.
“What’s the most powerful thing in all the realms?” Elsa prodded.
I stared.
“Give him a reason to want to come back,” Elsa said gently. “Are you in love with my brother?”
My gaze darted around the room. I tried to ignore the eyes staring at me, waiting on my response. Of course I was in love with Tyr. He was everything I never knew I wanted, and everything I absolutely needed. But how could I say that in front of a room of gods?
Elsa waited patiently until I nodded. “Then tell him,” she urged.
“What if it doesn’t work?” I was terrified. Losing Tyr would be like losing a part of myself. It would absolutely destroy me.
Henrik released his hold and Freya nudged me forward. “Try.”
I approached the golden glow surrounding the bed. Tyr had more color in his cheeks, and when I pushed through Elsa’s enchantment to touch him he felt okay—cool, but not icy. I brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, and stared at his angular jaw peppered with stubble, the strong nose, and the thick lashes I’d have traded my eyeteeth for.
Good lord, I loved this man. This god. Whatever. He’d changed my life in so many ways, and I wanted to shake him awake and thank him for every single gift he’d given me—for the security I felt every time we were in the same room; for the feeling of belonging I had at his side, even in the most unimaginable of worlds; for the adventure I wouldn’t have sought out on my own; for letting me believe I might have found the person—the god—who knew all my little oddities and loved me anyway.
There was no doubt in my heart; I’d do absolutely anything for Tyr, anything at all, if it meant saving him.
I bent down and brushed his lips softly with my own. “Please don’t leave me,” I whispered. “I know we’re not perfect. I know we’ve got, like, the entire universe stacked against us. But we’ve only just started. Come back to me. Because I love you.” My voice broke over the words. They were too true, too right. And too late. I lay my head on Tyr’s chest and cried. “With everything I have, I just love you.”
The hand that touched my back was cold. And hard. It rubbed me stiffly, like it was moving for the first time on its own.
It was Fred.
I lifted my head. Tyr stared up at me.
“You’re okay!” I threw my arms around him and squeezed so tight, he winced.
“I’m okay.” He pulled me back. “Do you?”
“Do I what?” I blinked back my tears.
“Love me?” His voice was thick.
“With everything I am,” I whispered back. Tyr reached up and guided my face to meet his. Our lips met in a rough kiss. It was far too short, and when Tyr met my gaze, his eyes were hungry.
“Gods, Mia. I love you so much. I’d do anything for you. Anything.”
“Oh, Tyr!” All of a sudden I couldn’t stand the inches between us. I crawled into his bed, careful not to jostle him, and pressed myself to his side. Tyr pulled my head to his bare chest and cradled me with his good arm. He flexed Fred experimentally, moving each finger with care.
“You did it. Nice work, Henrik. Sis! You’re awake!” He beamed up at Elsa, who practically wilted in relief. Forse ran over to catch her.
“For the love of Asgard, Tyr, don’t scare me like that again!” Elsa leaned against Forse.
“I could say the same for you,” Tyr admonished. “Do you have any idea how long you were out?”
Elsa put a hand on her hip. “How would I know a thing like that?”
“Months. It felt like an eternity.” Tyr balled both fists—Fred, and the one he was born with. “I am so sorry that monster hurt you. I swear, I won’t let anything get near you ever again.”
“Ah, Tyr the Protector. Once, now and always.” Elsa smiled ethereally. “I adore you, big brother. But you don’t have to save everyone, all the time. I’m here, and I’m just fine. A few scratches, is all.”
“You gave us a scare.” Henrik crossed the room and wrapped Elsa in a bear hug.
Elsa’s laugh rang like chimes. “Hei Henrik.”
Brynn moved to kiss Elsa on both cheeks. “We’re so glad you’re okay. That both of you are okay. Gods, Tyr. That was terrifying! Mia nearly had a heart attack.”
“You were pretty freaked out too,” I pointed out. “Wait, the prophecy. Henrik said the Norns saw the God of War fall. Does that mean you’re still in danger?”
“I doubt it. The prophecy came true. I did fall,” Tyr pointed out. He shifted us so we could sit up in the bed, and he nestled me underneath his arm as he rested his back against the headboard. “For all purposes, that monster killed me. But then you brought me back.” He stroked my cheek with one finger. “And now, mitt hjårta, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”
I studied Tyr’s features, committing every detail to memory. Especially the way he looked at me like I was the only girl in the world. “Thank gods.”
“Agreed,” Elsa chimed in.
I reluctantly looked away from Tyr. “Sorry I yelled at you, Elsa. I’m usually more well-mannered.”
Elsa laughed. “I know. I could hear you all those times you came to visit. I couldn’t wait to come out o
f that void and meet you in person.”
“I’m getting you an Elite Team security detail,” Tyr vowed. “Henrik, find out who the ranking officer is. I want him reassigned to Elsa immediately.”
“I don’t need Elite Team.” Elsa rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you’re so overprotective.”
“That’s my job. I’m your brother. And we’re not done talking about this. But we can table it until tomorrow.” Tyr stroked my back while he spoke to his sister.
“I hope he’s not this bossy with you, Mia. It’s rude.” Elsa punctuated her declaration with a wink. She was bubbly—not as perky as Brynn, but more so than I expected of someone who’d shared Tyr’s upbringing. She looked out the window with a frown. “So where is Fenrir now?”
“Restrained. Heimdall took him to the prison chamber via the Bifrost.” Brynn put her head on Henrik’s chest, and Tyr squeezed me tightly.
Freya let out a contented sigh.
“What?” Tyr asked.
“Great Odin, I’m good. Look at you, Tyr. My sweet, stubborn, impossible, irritating, egotistical, stoic, pigheaded friend. Alive. And in love.”
“Nice, Freya. How do you talk to your enemies?” Tyr rested his chin on the top of my head.
“As I was saying,” she continued, “my friend finally met his match. With more than a few gentle nudges from yours truly. Goddess of Love, guru of happiness. Matchmaker extraordinaire. You are so welcome, kille.”
I couldn’t stay silent any longer. “How is this even possible? I can’t do any of the stuff you guys can do. I’m not immortal; what happens when the next possessed deific wildebeest or whatever comes after me or one of those jotun things attacks?” My voice dropped. “Or what if you decide it’s too much work to have to protect me all the time? I’m not like you are—you guys are going to get tired of doing everything half-speed so the human can keep up.” I looked up at Tyr. “I love you. I think I always will. But I can’t lose you again. Not like this. You need a goddess who can fight at your side. Maybe I’m not your match, maybe you’re stronger without me, maybe—”
