Allegiance: Farewell

“I see not much has changed.”

Thor smiled as he stood beside Valdís. There was a strange calmness within the gardens of the palace; the usual sounds of sparring and fighting were absent, and even the scents of various potions or the flicking of pages could not be heard. It made Thor feel greatly appreciative that his daughter had chosen such a spot to hide from the merriment inside the great halls, for this silence was what he needed most at such a moment as this. He cherished the chance to talk to Valdís.

The sunset cast a truly beautiful glow against the young girl, so that – as she lounged on the stone bench – there seemed to be a radiance about her, one that was usually absent when she spent so often hidden in the shadows. Thor smiled at the sight of her, especially as her green eyes were full of life and curiosity. They had thought – when she had been born – that she would be born with eyes red as any Jotuns, for her skin had been as blue as the father that bore her, but to their surprise they had been as green as Loki’s and had stayed that way throughout her life. Those eyes were the eyes that were impossible to say no to, as such . . . Thor spoiled her.

He stood patiently by the bench, where she continued to lie with her hands in the air as she manipulated a fallen leaf into all directions, and he watched her with a fatherly interest. There was great skill in the magic she used. He almost envied her for such a talent, but he realised that her talent in magic came at the cost of her combat skills, so that she lacked even the basic knowledge that Loki himself had, and as such she could do nothing in battle aside from cast illusions and false images. Eventually, she sat up to make room for him, but not once did she look at him as she did so.

“Is that simple spell more interesting than your own father?”

Valdís gave a little jump. The leaf at once fell in small and swooping motions to her feet, where she immediately turned her head in both directions as if in search of who spoke to her, and – eventually – she looked to Thor and gave a long sigh of relief. It was clear then that she had been lost in concentration, too much to pay attention to whom had spoken and only that someone had spoken. She gave a bright smile and brushed back a lock of black hair behind her ear.

“I am sorry, Faðir,” she said.

“You were lost again in your magic?”

“Father taught me a new spell,” Valdís eagerly explained. “I have been trying all morning to master it, but so far I can not even perform it! He makes it appear so easy and tells me that I am a natural, but so far I have achieved nothing! I may ask Kóri later for some advice, although I fear he is too lost in books and celebrations to find time for me . . . oh, and such celebrations will only bring more books!”

“I do not believe that you tease him solely for reading,” said Thor. “I have noticed that you and Kóri are both academically inclined, but – where you would read nothing but magic and science – he reads more about linguistics and art.”

“Do you mean to say I tease him for enjoying the arts? Father would have your head!”

“Do you mean to imply the arts are an argy pursuit? He shall have yours first.”

“You may have a point there,” she laughed.

There was a light breeze through the garden. It brought with it memories of the many times that Thor had sat in this exact spot; he could remember when Loki had sat here and watched him spar, just as he could remember how they would sit and watch Fríða train with her friends, and how Loki would sit and whisper poetry to Kóri on warm nights. Now there were new memories to be built with their youngest daughter, who had fast become a beautiful young woman. He felt time move all too quickly.

Valdís looked more like Loki than any of their children, and as such he felt the differences between daughter and father all the more poignantly. He saw the way her long hair fell to her waist, in black curls just like Loki himself, and he noted how the patterns on her blue skin were so similar – if not identical to Loki also in his true form. There could be no denying that she had the looks of a Jotun, but her body and figure were as small as any Asgardian woman, so that she held an hourglass figure much like the women of their realm that chose not to fight or feast. Valdís knew basic self-defence, but she was no warrior. She was not like either of her fathers, in many ways she was uniquely her own person: she was Valdís Thorsdóttir.

“I love Kóri dearly,” she said at last.

“I do not doubt that, Valdís,” answered Thor.

“I should not tease him about such things, but I suppose it is a foul habit of mine. I am not blind to the looks or deaf to the comments, as such I sometimes feel better to know that there is another like me mocked for what he cannot control, but – you must believe me – Kóri teases me for being a Jotun as much as I tease him for being an ergi! It is not meant in hatred, but familial teasing to make ourselves feel less alone.”

“I understand as much as I am able,” he confessed. “I will never understand what it is like fully to be as you are, but I understand enough. Do not speak such words where other people may hear you, however, you speak for your realm and for your people, and I do not wish for such perceptions to be normalised once more.”

“They are still considered acceptable. You do not see it, but there are many that still despise the Jotun race and those men that lie with men are still slandered behind their backs, and things may be improving, but they improve so slowly!”

“I can see why that frustrates you.”

“Does it not frustrate you?”

Thor gave a sad smile and chanced a glance to Valdís. There was not the venom in her eyes that so often seen in her father’s, just as there was not the self-pity so often associated with the sad look that Kóri would wear when the subject was broached, and instead all he saw in her expression was an innocent curiosity and thirst for knowledge. She genuinely cared what Thor thought and felt upon the matter, and there was no judgement or bias in her eyes as she asked the question.

The truth was that he felt a deep pain to know that his children were to be raised in a realm that still held tight to such prejudices, but he also knew that times were changing and that there was a new tolerance that had never before existed. Loki had often argued that tolerance was not the same as acceptance, but Thor also knew that tolerance was the first step towards an accepting society, and as such he held tight to the hope that in a few centuries that their realm would be a place in which Valdís and Kóri could be proud to belong. The Jotun were already better received than they once were, even if they were still distrusted and no Jotun stayed long within their realm.

It was said by many that Valdís helped this new tolerance. There were a few that respected her for her choice to wear her Jotun skin proudly, despite how Loki had taught her well the power of illusion and how Thor had given her permission to wear whatever form she so preferred, and there were a few that saw her often in this form and learned to accept what they saw. There was still disrespect and outright hatred, but these people were slowly becoming a minority, and Valdís visited Jotunheim often to try and build better relations. Thor refused to give up hope.    

“It does frustrate me,” he said. “It will change, though.”

“Oh, I know it shall change. I have faith in that! I just feel impatient.”

“Is that why you have sought shelter outside in the garden? It is unlike you to hide. Your brother loves you dearly, Valdís, and he notices you missing from the celebrations. It is not often that we have cause to celebrate; he is twenty-five now, but the next birthday celebration we have shall not be until his fiftieth, then his hundredth, and after that it will be less and less . . . cherish these moments.”

“Well, I did make an appearance,” Valdís admitted. “It caused too much drama, I fear. The guests would stop and stare, some would talk about me, and it was unfair to Kóri to have the focus upon any other and for the attention to be stolen from him. Father asked me to cast the illusion of my Asgardian form, but I refused . . .”

“So you came outside to hide?”

Valdís smiled and lifted her arm to signal about the garden. There was a devilish smirk about her face, so that he gained the impression that she was partially mocking him for having stated the obvious. This was where she differed to her siblings; Fríða would have lightly punched him, whereas Kóri would have taken it as a deep insult, but Valdís instead felt no need to speak or act. She knew well when words were not needed and often let actions speak for themselves. He admired her for it.

“He says that we are neither one thing or another,” said Valdís.

It was clear to what she referred. They had raised her in her Jotun form until she was old enough to decide for herself, but Loki had never appreciated her decision. Loki spent most of his time tutoring Kóri or working on behalf of the Allfather, just as he had finally earned respect and slowly began to become something of a role-model for those ergi men that had yet to find courage to be open about their acts. Loki felt burdened by one slur and felt desperate to avoid yet another.

Their people treated him as an honorary Asgardian for as long as he held their form and obeyed their customs, but whenever Valdís was seen in her Jotun form it only sought to remind them of their prince’s true nature. It made things more difficult for Loki. Thor found that his husband resented his daughter for this burden, but he equally resented Thor for having placed that same burden upon their daughter in turn, completely unable to comprehend how she may truly accept her form and nature. He begged Thor to ban Valdís the use of her form, to punish her when she used it, but he did so only to protect her, just as Thor allowed it to help her.

“Your father has never truly accepted what he is,” said Thor.

“He appears to accept his position as an ergi,” countered Valdís. “Does it not seem strange to you that there is far more prejudice against such men than there is against the Jotun? He would announce his love for you proudly, but not for me.”

“Your father adores you, Valdís. There are many nights when we lie together and talk of our days and our lives, but he talks of no one as much as he talks about you. He admires your magic, your spirit, even your ‘foolish’ optimism. It is simply that the discrimination against such men is not violent or filled with hate, merely an ignorant prejudice, as you say, but the hatred against the Jotun is just that . . . hatred.

“He fears every time that you walk alone. He has guards follow you whenever you leave the palace in this form, and he has Heimdall watch your every move whenever possible. Your father is terrified – terrified – of losing you, Valdís! Kóri may be mocked and jeered, just as he may have his achievements overlooked and his potential lessened, but there is no real risk of attack upon his person. We have endured two wars Jotunheim in less than a thousand years. You must be aware of that.”

“Oh, Faðir, I am well aware of what you say,” said Valdís. “I simply find it odd that he can not accept me as I am, for my form is a part of me. I feel he is in love with the idea of what I could be and not with who I truly am. I do not judge him for it, but to hear constant criticism is a hard thing. Do I truly belong to no one?”

“Your father is wrong, Valdís!”

It had been no small wonder why she had left the party. Thor could not imagine how difficult it must have been to have all eyes upon her, as well as the guilt of having her brother – her closest friend – having someone else the centre of his twenty-fifth celebration, but to then have Loki beg her to change her forms must have hurt her more than she was willing to show. Valdís saw her Jotun form as a part of herself. It was admirable that she hid her sadness behind a perfect smile, but she should not have to hide her pain. Loki should not have asked her to change.

“Your father projects his fears onto you,” said Thor. “He is wrong to do so. Do you truly think yourself neither Jotun nor Asgardian, as if you do not belong in one realm or another? You are perhaps most blessed of all. You are both Jotun and Asgardian, as such you do not lack for a home . . . you have two homes . . . you belong to both worlds. Never doubt your place in this world or any other!”

“This is why I always feel better for having spoken to you.”

“I am glad that we can have these talks.”

Thor reached out to wrap his arm around Valdís, grateful that she held the warm blood of an Asgardian and her touch could not harm him. It was nice to be so close to her, for it reminded him of all the times as a newborn when she would refuse to sleep unless Thor and Thor alone held her, and he could not help but to pull her close to his side and place a kiss to the top of her head. He released her and she sat back, but he could not help but feel a pang of loss as she moved away. There was a part of him that longed for another child, but he knew Loki would disapprove of that suggestion.

He looked briefly to his side as he heard sounds of cheering from within the hall, and at once he knew that someone had told a particularly embarrassing story about his son, as was tradition during large birthday celebrations. Thor smiled at the thought of Kóri cringing at the head table, whilst Volstagg slapped him on the back and Odin raised a glass to toast, and thought of how he would need to return to the party some point soon in order so that his son did not miss his presence. He hoped to convince Valdís to go with him, but with the cool breeze that now blew through it became clear that she would wish to stay outside. She adored nature too much to leave now.

Valdís gave a soft laugh. It was clear that little could leave a lasting mark upon her, for she was resilient and strong, but sometimes Thor feared that his young daughter hid the depths of her pain. He hoped greatly that she would make many friends as she aged, perhaps meet an Asgardian or Jotun that would understand her completely, and so she would have someone to air her fears and discuss her concerns. There could be no kinder hearted maiden, and so he hoped she would meet someone in kind. 

“I do have one small secret,” she confessed.

“You may tell me anything. You need not hide from me.”

“Oh, I know that, Faðir! I think there is one that does not know that, however,” she said with a mischievous wink. “Do you know who I caught sneaking out of Fríða’s rooms yesterday at sunup? One Vígi Fandralsson! They must have had a very intense sparring match, for he wore his shirt inside our and had a bruise upon his hip, and he blushed when he saw me and said that nothing had occurred. Strange, is it not?” 

“Your sister is but thirty-four,” said Thor coldly. “It is too young for her to engage in the acts that you insinuate. I have heard such rumours for many years, but I shall not believe that the chastity of my eldest has been compromised. You are mistaken. Vígi knows that he would be punished severely for such impudence.”

“Did you never take such risks at his age? I think you are wilfully blind.”

“I shall remain so until Fríða is half-a-century.”

“Ignorance does not change fact.”

Thor looked to Valdís and saw her smile. There was a slight tightening of her lips, as if she strove to hold back waves of laughter, and he felt uncertain as to whether she sought to get Fríða in trouble or simply sought to embarrass her father. Valdís reached up to push a lock of black hair away from her face, perhaps to distract attention from her smile, but the breeze caught it at once and cast it in all directions. It reminded him of his husband, for Loki often endured the same problem with his hair.

He looked away and thought to what his daughter had said, but such thoughts were not easy ones to bear. The truth was that he had known about Fríða’s activities for some time, even if Loki had strove to hide the matter from him, and he found it difficult to repress his anger every time he turned his mind to the issue. It was certainly true that he had been far more active than Fríða had at her age, for – to his knowledge – she had only known Vígi and had stayed with him steadily since her teen years, but it did not make the knowledge any easier to bear. Fríða was his little girl. Fríða was his beautiful baby and still too young, too innocent to –

“This is not up for discussion,” he said.

“It seems awfully unfair,” teased Valdís. “You forbade Kóri from allowing anyone within his rooms until he reaches at least fifty, and – as for myself – you know full well that you would have the head of anyone that takes my head.”

“Do you enjoy seeing your siblings in trouble? Our people cannot conceive until they reach the age of five hundred, and even then many do not begin to create families until they have reached two-thousand years . . . I have not asked your father at what age the Jotun develop, but if it is at a younger age then I shall gladly make an exception for you. My rules otherwise stand.”

“I once believed you when you said that it was best to wait until marriage,” said Valdís. “I remember a certain someone telling me that he waited until his wedding night and that I ought to do the same, but a thousand years is a very long time . . . unless you are Fríða, in which case – I am told – even sixteen years was too much!”

“Why are you determined to get your sister into trouble?”

“Oh, no reason!”

Valdís gave a soft giggle. It would have been adorable, if only she had been a few years younger and far less mischievous. Thor wondered if he had provided so much frustration for his parents at this same age, especially so as far as Loki was concerned, for the two had often played towards their favourite respective parents and tried their best to set the other up to fall. It had been almost a game. They had sought to outsmart each other often, which seemed to be the case with Valdís and her siblings. 

“If you disown her, can I have her rooms?”

“You are incorrigible,” he said.

It was difficult not to smile at her gentle teasing, but he would have to have words with Loki later at some point. The truth was that a rivalry between siblings was healthy and normal, but he feared that their constant attempts to get the other into trouble would lead to more violent fights in future, and Loki always seemed to know how to best resolve such issues. Thor did not know how Loki managed it, although he suspected a mixture of bribery and blackmail, but it worked regardless.

Thor stood to his feet and offered her his hand. It was not that he expected her to take it, but rather that he wished for her to know that she would always have his support, even when she was at her most devilish. Valdís laughed at him, before she then used her hands to jump to a crouch onto the bench, and then she launched herself forward so that she stood a few feet away from Thor. He watched her as she jumped onto a low wall and began to walk slowly along it to the steps that would lead back to the hall, and as he watched her he was reminded of the child that she had been. She spun around and placed her hands upon her hips, whilst she waited for him to catch up.

“We are going back to the party, are we not?”

“We are indeed,” said Thor. “Be proud of who you are, Valdís.”

“How can I not? I am Valdís Thorsdóttir.”

Valdís jumped down from the small wall and ran her hands through her hair, before she then turned to Thor and gave a bright smile. The truth was that he spoiled his youngest daughter, to the point that she would rarely turn to anyone else other than Thor, but he saw so much of his husband in her and her mannerisms. He shook his head with a half-amused smile and followed her, until he was able to gently punch the side of her arm. She laughed in response.

“I will always be proud of you,” he said.

“You are too sentimental.”

It was then that she ran up the stone steps. She stopped at the top to turn and look to him, as if to make sure that he was to follow, before she then ran at a rather quick speed. He thought – for a second – that he saw her cast the illusion of her Asgardian form, but if she did so then it was solely for her brother’s benefit and not for the benefit of her other father. He admired her selflessness and forethought.

“Always,” he whispered.