Episode Twenty: Ghosts: Scene 30

Mike left not long after Thruor, looking worried. I looked at Kanesha. “I need to fight something.”

She considered that. “Maybe one of Thruor’s sisters is around and wants to spar.”

I shook my head. “I need a real fight. I’m feeling like all I can do, all I’m needed for, is to get other people to do things for me. And while I think that’s kind of how it’s supposed to work…”

“It’s not enough for you.”

“And I know I need it to be enough.” Because when I was a goddess in truth…unless… And Thruor had said I would never be one of her sisters. I wouldn’t be a warrior out here fighting.

“Do you?”

I nodded. “Thruor said I won’t be a valkyrie. Whatever Odin has in mind for me it’s probably going to involve a lot of sitting around in Asgard.”

Kanesha put her hand on mine, dark against pale. “Siglaugr.” She didn’t quite pronounce it right.


“You are who you are. Odin can’t change that, right?”

“But he’s still the king.”

“Doesn’t Frigg, even, ride with them sometimes?”

“…I think so. I know Freya does.” I added, softly, “And I know my own frustrations are much less important than preventing Ragnarok.”

“All you have to do for that, I think, is stay away from Surtur. And he’d…”

“…try to turn me into a queen. Then I’d be sitting around in Muspelheim.” I laughed a bit. “Or…who knows.”

“Fire giants probably spar all the time.”

“Fire giants consider assassination a reasonable way to get power,” I pointed out. “Heh. Maybe it would be more fun, but I’m not…I want the world to live out its full lifespan without us messing it up.”

Kanesha grinned. “I dunno how I’d like Muspelheim either, and…”

“Surtur wouldn’t tolerate you around, I don’t think.” I considered that. “Unless I sneaked you in as a lady in waiting.”

“I wonder what fashionable fire giantesses wear.”

We were both laughing and I did feel quite a lot better. Then there came yet another knock at the door.

“Who could that be?” she asked. “It’s after midnight.”

This time, I went to answer it.

It was Sebastian, and he was carrying a bloodied Clara in his arms.

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