Blood Moon

Well, if anything, Eyvor was glad that her mother knew how to sew, because none of her father’s clothes had fit Jake’s frame. Also, Jake refused to go to the party. Apparently, he and Marc had agreed that Steven should go, because he was the people person. Steven told her that, as Marc had put it, “We’ll just piss people off. At least you can pretend you like them.” She wasn’t going to tell them what to do, obviously. If Steven wanted to go, all the better.

Her mother had given up ever getting Eyvor to wear dresses when she didn’t want to. There were some times that she did, but, as she’d grown older, she’d just appreciated the comfort of soft deerskin trousers instead of flowing silk dresses. Iðunn had always been pleased that her daughter wore shirts with long, draping sleeves, at the very least. What she didn’t know, however, was that Eyvor only wore them because it was easier for her to hide daggers up her sleeves that way. Tyr had taught her to always be prepared, and weapons were normal for Asgard. It was safe to assume that almost everyone was carrying a weapon of some kind. In the parties she’d been to previously, she’s rarely seen Thor without Mjolnir hooked on his belt, and the Warriors Three were never without their own weapons. Eyvor just made it a habit to keep hers more hidden. 

She’d be more concerned about Steven not carrying a weapon, just because he was new, and sometimes citizens of Asgard could be a bit much when given something new. But Marc and Jake wouldn’t let him get into something he couldn’t handle, and Eyvor wasn’t going to be letting him out of her sight the whole evening, or at least until everyone else was suitably distracted with the festivities to ignore them leaving. 

She linked arms with Steven as they walked with her parents towards the palace of Asgard. “We can leave whenever you want,” she whispered to him. “I hate these things. If it’s too much, or they get too nosy, just tell me, okay?”

“Don’t worry, love,” Steven said, patting her hand from where it was hooked into his elbow. “I’ll be alright.” She sighed a bit, kissing his cheek.

“The offer still stands.”

“Thanks, love.”

Parties in Asgard were always loud, long-lasting affairs. It wasn’t uncommon for holiday celebrations to last a week or more. Eyvor rarely went to them once her parents stopped insisting that she join the fun. But her mother was right: when Queen Frigga herself told you to come to a celebration, you came. 

Bragi kissed both her and her mother’s cheeks before disappearing to provide music in the background of the celebration, and Eyvor swept Steven away to a set of doors that led out to the gardens of the palace, where there were less people here.

“If you can’t find me,” she said, “come here. I’ll find you. And if you want to leave, you just have to tell me.”

“I’ll be alright, love, don’t worry about me.” She gave him a fond smile and a sweet kiss.

“I made a promise, solskinn. More importantly, I love you. I’m always going to worry.” With that, they turned and stepped back into the loud interior of the hall that was filled with people talking and music. Those who knew Eyvor came to welcome her home and were intrigued at Steven on her arm, but most took the offered introductions and polite questions before slipping away to use this party as a chance to catch people into other important conversations. 

Eyvor, unfortunately, had to leave Steven by the food, as her mother pulled her away to talk to Lord Harald about some of the things she had learned during her stay in Asgard, and then she was trapped in an endless stream of people wanting to talk to her mother and by extent, talking to her out of politeness and thinly veiled entrapment until it had been well over an hour or two since she’d seen Steven. When she turned her head to search for him, he wasn’t over by the food, where she’d left him. He was by the large windows that overlooked the patio and gardens. She didn’t mind that; it was who had cornered him against a column and window that bothered her.

Careen and Eyvor had never been friends; Eyvor despised her, and whenever she talked to her father about the girl, she called her a snake and a serpent and meant every word. That girl (for she was younger than Eyvor and therefore a girl, not a woman) was the most vile, cunning, and manipulative person Eyvor had ever met; she would rather have a conversation with Harrow again than talk to Careen. Perhaps if she was certain that Careen didn’t know that Steven belonged to her, she would forgive the girl for her actions. However, Queen Frigga had made sure that Eyvor and Steven’s arrival was announced, so everyone in attendance knew they were at the very least involved with one another. Steven, for his part, was doing a wonderful job of being calm while also searching the room for Eyvor, and Eyvor didn’t even bother making an excuse to the person her mother was speaking to. She turned on her heel and left, anger simmering in her blood. The spark blew into a full-blown inferno as she watched Careen’s hand drift lower from where it had been on Steven’s arm, and she took pride in the audible gasp that the girl let out when a dagger lodged into the column barely a few centimeters from her nose. 

Eyvor was by Steven’s side in an instant, gently pushing him slightly behind her to glare at the girl, who tossed her blonde hair behind her shoulder and sneered in distaste. “What’s your problem?” Careen hissed. “You could’ve killed me!”

“Keep. Your hands. Off him,” Eyvor warned, anger making her hands clench into fists. 

“What, like you own him or something? He didn’t say anything about it.”

“I did, actually,” Steven replied, and Eyvor knew it was only his unwillingness to cause a scene that had kept Marc or Jake from stepping in. “Several times.”

“Oh please,” Careen scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“Leave,” Eyvor growled before the girl could get another word out, “before I gouge out your eyes.” Careen seemed more startled at her audacity to threaten her than the threat itself.

“You dare!” she exclaimed, drawing the attention of a few surrounding people. “Do you know who my father is?” Eyvor did. There were few in Asgard who didn’t know of Ginnar and his wine, which was second only to Aegir’s in quality.

“I don’t care. Leave.” There was a shift behind her, and Eyvor recognized the feeling of Jake standing behind her, the simmering anger that rose to boil between them. “I’ll cut off your hands too, for touching him.”

“Are you threatening me?!” Careen said louder, making sure people’s attention was on them.

“Yes.” Eyvor was quiet. She didn’t need to make a scene. She had done far worse to people with ease, without a thought. 

“What’s the meaning of this?” Ginnar himself said, pushing through the crowd to stand behind his daughter. He was a stout man, and not even the foods of Asgard had kept his hair from thinning. Eyvor had always disliked him.

“Teach your daughter to keep her hands to herself,” Eyvor snarled, not taking her eyes off of Careen. She reached up and yanked the dagger out of the column, and she took great pleasure in the flinch the girl let out.

“Daddy, she’s threatening me! I didn’t do anything!” the girl wailed, and Eyvor sneered.

“You touched him,” she growled. “He was too polite to make a scene. I’m not.” She took a step forward, pleased when everyone, even the other guests, took a step back in response. A large, familiar hand on her shoulder was all that stopped her. Looking up, Tyr towered over her, as he always had everyone in Asgard, and his hand remained firm, keeping her in place.

“Eyvor,” he said, and she relaxed her stance, shifting backwards until she felt Jake against her back. “She speaks the truth, Ginnar. Would you call me a liar?” No one would dare. Tyr was beloved by all, and Eyvor had always thought it ironic that the one the skalds had deemed the god of war was the most peaceful man she knew. 

“My daughter is–”

“I do not care what your opinion of her is, Ginnar. She forced herself onto our esteemed guest. That alone is an offense. Perhaps Eyvor’s threats are extreme, but they are not unwarranted. Would you not agree? If it had been your daughter instead, would you not threaten the same fate on the one who did such things?” Ginnar shuffled his feet a bit.

“I would.”

“Eyvor, go home,” Tyr said, his gentle eyes looking down at her. “I believe both you and your partner have had enough of parties. Usual time tomorrow?”

“Yes, sir,” Eyvor replied.

“Good. Go on, then.” Eyvor shifted, glaring at Careen, before she and Jake left, the anger pouring off of them causing the partygoers to step away, creating a path for them to leave uninhibited. They didn’t say a word as Eyvor led them away from the palace, down into her mother’s orchard, and farther still past her house until they reached a barren stretch of land that overlooked the ocean. There, she finally stopped, bent down, picked up a rock that she found on the ground, and hurled it with all her strength towards the waves, where it disappeared with a splash. She did it three more times before she turned, calm once more, and reached out; Jake started to join her but it was Steven by the time she had his face in her hands.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her anger melting away into worry. “I’m so sorry I left you alone for so long. Are you hurt anywhere?”

“No, I’m alright, love,” he answered, though his voice was shaking. “Just–”

“You don’t have to explain,” she assured him. “She’s a snake, and I’ll kill her.”

“No, no,” Steven insisted. “I’ll be alright, really. Just a bit shook up, is all. Can we–I’d like to go to bed, I think. Feel better in the mornin’, yeah?”

“If you want to,” she replied, taking his hand and walking him back to the house, where she led him into her bedroom and began removing her formal outfit for more comfortable sleeping clothes.

“What did that guy mean?” Marc asked. “About tomorrow?”

“Oh, that’s Tyr. He wants to meet us at the training grounds tomorrow morning. I’d planned on it anyway, but he beat me to it, apparently.”

“Why?”

“In case I was still angry tomorrow, he can provide a way for me to get through that. But also, he’s been a friend and a mentor to me since I was a child, and this provides us time to catch up without anyone spying on us. If you or Jake wanted to join in, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“Who is Tyr, again?” Marc asked, changing into the clothes that they had brought with them from London. Eyvor was already stretching out on the bed, watching the night sky through the gently-floating curtains.

“My best friend, before I met Jake. He was one of the only people who took me seriously, when I was younger. He and Mimir, anyway, but Mimir was harder to visit as I got older. Odin can be jealous, and he doesn’t like the chance that someone else could be as wise as him one day. So I spent a lot of my time with Tyr, in the training yards. Mostly in the mornings, I trained with him, but in the afternoons, I shadowed him as he did other things. I learned a lot from him. He and Mimir–” She paused, thinking how best to put it. “I wasn’t really lonely, but they helped me figure out who I wanted to be. They’re the reasons I wanted to go to Midgard so much after the rest of the Asgardians stopped going. I think without them, and without Mother and Father supporting me, I might have turned out a much angrier person.”

Marc huffed a laugh, sitting on the edge of the bed and copying her staring out the windows. 

“You have a nice home, Eyvor,” he said. “I don’t think I want to be involved with early-morning trainings again. I left that behind a long time ago.”

“That’s okay. Like I said, Tyr wouldn’t mind either way.” Marc laid back, pulling one of the soft furs with him.

“Night, Eyvor,” he said, and she smiled, laying back beside him and sliding under another of the furs. Twisting onto her side, she kissed his cheek.

“Sweet dreams, Marc.” She had barely settled into place when arms and legs cuddled up and locked her into place.

“Goodnight, love,” Steven whispered, stretching over her to kiss her cheek. She giggled, turning her head to give him a proper kiss.

“Goodnight, solskinn.” Steven stretched his neck, and Jake grabbed her face and pressed a searing kiss to her lips.

“Sleep tight, gotita.” Eyvor huffed a laugh.

“Are you going to come watch me tomorrow? Or sleep in?”

“I’ll come with you,” he replied, kissing her again and using the hold Steven had put her in to roll on top of her.

“Jake Lockley, not when my parents are home,” she giggled, pushing at his chest playfully. He chuckled, nipping at her nose.

“Why not? Embarrassed?”

“Jake, I will personally show you the best place in all of Asgard if you really want to, but not in my home where my parents don’t even have doors.” She giggled and kissed his chin. “Go to sleep. Tyr’ll tire us both out if we don’t get some rest.” He rumbled teasingly in protest, but he settled down beside her again, wrapping himself around her until he was practically smothering her into the bed.

“Night, mi amor.”

“Goodnight, tvillingsjel.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eyvor was a morning person; she knew this simply from the fact that she almost always woke up before any of the boys even thought about getting out of bed for the day. Today, though, as she walked through the cool early-morning air before dawn had broken, she had to fight to keep her giggles quiet as Jake tromped along behind her, grumbling under his breath in heated Spanish. He was probably regretting his decision to join her and Tyr this morning. Still, Eyvor had a skip in her step. It had been a while since she and Tyr had the chance to spend the mornings as they used to. She couldn’t wait.

She stepped out onto the flat plateau that made up the training grounds, the stone wall easily climbed over, and as she stepped onto the dirt center, only instincts had her dodging the ax that was flung past her head, and it clattered against the stone. Jake was instantly on edge, but Eyvor only laughed.

“You’ve gotten slow,” she said as Tyr walked over from where he had been leaning against the wall to her right. 

“You’ve gotten faster,” he corrected. “Your reflexes have improved. That’s good.”

“I’ve kept on my toes,” Eyvor replied, staring up at him in the barely-there light of dawn. He was so much taller than anyone else she knew, but he was so gentle. She was so excited.

“Introduce us?” Tyr asked, looking back at Jake.

“This is Jake,” Eyvor answered. “Jake, Tyr, my mentor.”

“I’m a mentor now?” Tyr teased, going to collect the ax he had thrown. 

“You’ve always been that,” Eyvor replied, rolling her eyes.

“Get into position,” Tyr instructed, cutting the conversation off. “I don’t have much time today.”

“You didn’t make time for me?” she replied, whistling, and her axes appeared in her hands.

“You are not my only priority today, little bear,” he answered. “Now, show me you have not grown weak in your time in Midgard.” He leaned against the wall, pressing a button on his bracer that began to glow, and Eyvor was surrounded by faceless beings.

“Jake, stay behind the wall,” Eyvor told him, shifting into her ready stance. She would have to make the first move; she always did. Tyr had taught her when to wait and when to move, and training was always the time to move. She didn’t hesitate. There was no time for that. An ax firmly embedded in one of the beings’ skulls, and she moved to the next one. She knew this test. She only had to outlast the waves Tyr would send at her. Head, shoulder, chest, abdomen, dodge, move, shift, abdomen. They didn’t bleed, only disappeared into dust to be replaced with another. For only a moment, she remembered the sand-covered streets, taking out Ammit’s followers, and that momentary lapse got her a hit across the cheek, snapping her head to the left, but she used the momentum to spin and ensure that being didn’t get another hit in. She could still bleed. That was without question. Heat bloomed across her face. Definitely a scratch, but she didn’t mind that. She had plenty of scars. 

Tyr wasn’t relentless in his training, but she was breathing heavily by the time the last opponent turned to dust. “Your reflexes have improved, as I suspected, but you rely too heavily on your weapons,” he said from his place by the wall. “They are only extensions of yourself. Get rid of them.” Eyvor dismissed them. His eyes turned to where Jake was standing by the wall. “Has he taught you anything?” Eyvor grinned, a bit feral if she was honest.

“He’s taught me several things.” 

“Show me.” The beings were back, and Eyvor shifted herself, holding up her fists adjusting her feet. Jake told her Marc used to be a boxer, before the military. Jake liked the style, and he used it frequently, when guns were out of the question. He’d taught her several aspects of it, and she liked the more hands-on approach, if she was honest with herself. “Begin.” Eyvor got up close, throwing the first punch, and she didn’t hold back. There was no head left when the being crumpled to dust. Another was in its place, but she ducked the swing, throwing a fist up between its arms and catching its chin. 

Admittedly, this wasn’t the style of fighting she was used to, as Jake had only been teaching her for a year, whereas Tyr had taught her for several centuries (according to Midgard’s time, anyway). However, she was a fast learner, and while Jake was able to use his weight to his advantage, Eyvor was faster, even though they were almost the same size in height. She’d learned the add in kicks and shoves, and the occasional headbut when it was effective. She skidded a few times in the dust, making the dirt stick to her skin, and the few lucky hits that the beings got dripped blood, but she was thriving, high on the adrenaline of showing off for her mentor and friend. When the last being crumpled away, Tyr looked over at Jake.

“I would like to see how the two of you work together.” Jake shrugged.

“Sure.” He pushed off of the wall, and Eyvor grinned at him.

“This’ll be fun,” she said. Jake shook his head with a fond smile.

“Woke me up this early for this,” he muttered.

“You love watching me kill things,” she shot back. They stood back to back, watching each other’s blind spot, like they always did. 

“Not when I could be sleeping,” he grumbled, but Eyvor only laughed. They were surrounded by more of the faceless beings, and Eyvor reached down, sliding the dagger she always kept at her hip over to Jake. His hand grasped it firmly, and Eyvor whistled, her axes in her hand again.

“Ready?” Tyr called. They both nodded.

When Tyr assessed new things, he didn’t hold back. He’d always told Eyvor that you learned the most about people when they were under pressure, and he liked to make sure he knew the people he dealt with.

Not to mention, she and Jake were new to him. He’d only ever taught Eyvor by herself, but here was someone who had taught her an entirely new method of fighting, and he was curious. 

They were never further than five feet from each other, as both of them tore into their foes, throwing punches, slashing faces, driving blades deep into torsos. They didn’t get to do this as often anymore, since they had to keep up appearances for Steven and Marc, but it was as if they had never broken their nightly routine of stalking the streets of London for even a second. Eyvor even managed to sneak in a kiss to Jake’s cheek right after she flung her ax into one of the opponents who was getting the upper hand on him. She could hear Tyr’s sigh over the sound of fighting, and she laughed.

When the final one fell, Eyvor kissed Jake again, smiling brightly.

“That was fun.”

“Espera a que te tenga sola, gotita,” Jake growled, grabbing her hips. Her grasp on Spanish wasn’t that good yet, but she knew that tone.

“Later, Jake, I promise,” she giggled, batting his hands away.

“Well, that was certainly educational,” Tyr said, leaving his spot on the wall and coming their way. He looked towards the ever-climbing sun to gauge the time. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take my leave, but if you wouldn’t mind, sir, I’d like for you to show me some of your technique later this week. I’m interested to learn more.” Jake looked at Eyvor, who shrugged at him.

“Sure,” he replied. Tyr gave a nod.

“Two days from now, after the noon meal,” he said. “Eyvor will know where to find me.” Eyvor nodded.

“It’s good to see you again,” she said with a smile.

“I expect to have a long conversation with you very soon,” he replied. “Now go on, bother someone else.” He waved them off as he set off towards the palace, and Eyvor grabbed Jake’s hand and pulled him back the way that they had come.

“Come on,” Eyvor said with a laugh. “I want to introduce Steven to someone.” Jake gave her a look. “Not yet, tvillingsjel. I’m teaching you how to ride a horse, first.”

“De ninguna manera,” Jake replied, shaking his head.

“But it’ll be fun!”

“No,” he said firmly. She laughed again and shook her head. 

“Oh, if you’re going to be stubborn about it, fine. Come on. Mimir won’t go anywhere, but Mother will want to feed us first. And we both need to get cleaned up.” He squeezed her hand as he walked beside her.

“Lead the way, mi amor.”