by Amy Sumida
“This was their celebration, Vervain,” Odin explained. “They don't want to socialize with gods and monsters–not my words, don't look at me like that. You know how frightening your Hidden-Ones can be.”
“Dead Vikings are scared of my faeries?” I scoffed.
“Everyone who isn't a fire faerie is scared of your faeries,” Odin said dryly. “Think about how they would appear to human men who lived in the past.”
“Yeah, all right,” I huffed.
“They tossed around a severed foot like it was a game,” Odin went on.
“Hello? Where do you think football came from?” I rolled my eyes and then snorted a laugh. I had to get a shot at that joke; it was just too awesome.
Odin grimaced at me.
“They didn't get to kill anything,” I defended the fire fey. “They just needed to have some fun.”
“Can you even hear yourself?” Trevor asked me.
“I may be just a little influenced by my dragon at the moment,” I said softly.
“A little?” Odin and Arach asked at the same time, but with different inflections; Odin's was sarcastic while Arach's was offended.
“I concede that tossing a severed foot around isn't civilized,” I whispered so that the fire fey wouldn't hear me. “But, in their defense, I was the one who requested a foot.”
“Why did you want Morrigan's foot anyway?” Re asked. “It seems an odd choice.”
“It's for Kirill,” I explained. “He'll need proof of death, and I didn't want to lug around Morrigan's head. That's just gross.”
“A head is gross, but a foot is fine?” Azrael asked with lifted brows.
“Yes,” Arach and I said at the same time.
Around us, the Celtic gods were still processing their change of heart and were beginning to clean up the mess they'd made (mostly made by them). But when they heard our exchange, they stopped and gave me and my faeries horrified looks. When I met their looks with a hard stare, they quickly went back to their clean-up.
“Let's go home and leave the Celts to their housework,” I said to my husbands.
And that was how my fire faeries first came to visit Pride Palace. Their king and I finally brought them for a visit at the most perfect time ever; Lesya's homecoming. They'd all be seeing the palace for the first time.
I was a little surprised that Kirill hadn't called our allies and invited them back to meet the real Lesya. I said as much to him after I arrived, and Kirill told me that he didn't see the point in making everyone return to meet our daughter again. They'd already met a version of her, and that was enough for now. We didn't need to rile everyone up with the tale of Morrigan and her tricks. When I thought about how my mother would react to the news that she'd coddled a crow instead of her granddaughter, I agreed with him. Let's let sleeping lions lie.
But we still celebrated with the Fire Fey, the Intare, and the Froekn. We had to take it outside, of course. Our dining hall was massive, but not quite that large. The lions took some of the faeries and froekn hunting and returned with several field-dressed animals, which they immediately started butchering for our meal. I'd have to restock later.
We had a farm now, and they could have easily gone there to procure our dinner, but, as I mentioned earlier, there hadn't been nearly enough killing to go around, and hunting instincts needed to be appeased. The animals in my territory were made from my magic, so it was less traumatic for the remnants of my human delicacies. I used to hate the thought of hunting animals, and even though my inner beasts had changed my mind, I still got occasional twangs of sadness over it. Knowing that they were only magical creations helped.
You're probably wondering about the foot. I presented it to Kirill after my children were a safe distance away, and he got a nice, long sniff to satisfy his own killer instincts. He nodded to me when he was finished, and I burned the remains to ashes and then scattered them to the wind. It felt like an appropriate end for the Morrigan. She would never step foot in any realm, ever again.
I'm sorry, there were more foot jokes than I'd originally thought.
The rest of Morrigan's remains had been left in Tara so that the Tuatha dé Danann would have a body to bury. I didn't begrudge them their mourning. Morrigan had been an important goddess to them, and even though she'd sort of lost her mind at the end there, she'd been loved. Morrigan's loss would be felt in other ways as well, I'm sure. The Tuatha deserved to have a burial and do their grieving properly.
But it would be a closed casket.
After Odin had returned, my men, my children, and I went out on the drawbridge veranda and sat down to enjoy watching our gathered families socializing. Fenrir came walking up with his wife, Emma, who had sat out the fighting. Emma had once been human, and she wasn't anything close to being a warrior. In fact, we'd found her imprisoned in Demeter's territory and had freed her. Fenrir had been smitten immediately. But then, he'd had an unfair advantage. I had given him a glimpse of the love that was coming for him, and he'd seen Emma's face. So, when Fenrir finally met Emma, there was no way he was letting her get away. He married her and made her immortal. And Fenrir never let Emma join a battle.
“Will the real Lesya please stand up?” Emma teased as she walked up.
I laughed and held up my daughter for her inspection. Emma sighed appreciatively and swept Lesya into her arms. Lesya stared hard at Emma, narrowing her sapphire stare for a moment. Then she seemed to reach a satisfactory conclusion and her face cleared. Lesya huffed a sigh.
“I think I've passed her test,” Emma joked.
“High praise indeed,” Fenrir rumbled.
It was a little too loud for Lesya, and she hissed at him. Fenrir laughed and tapped her little nose.
“My little frami has made a littler frami, it seems,” Fenrir declared. “Courage is good, granddaughter, but you must learn to recognize which battles you can win before you go picking fights.”
Lesya frowned at him.
“I'll give you a clue,” Fenrir whispered to her, “I'm not one of those.”
Lesya looked skeptical.
“She has you pegged.” I laughed. “All she'd have to do is smile at you to win a fight.”
“A valid point,” Fenrir admitted.
“Mommy, can I go flying?” Rian asked.
“Me too!” Brevyn shouted.
“I'll take them,” Arach said indulgently.
“No,” I said firmly, and my boys pouted at me. And by “boys” I meant Arach as well. “My animals have already been hunted by Hidden-Ones, I don't need them to be scared by dragons flying overhead too. Why don't you take them swimming, Arach?”
“Swimming?” Arach's dragon eyes went round. They're too young to brave it.”
“Swimming!” Brevyn said.
“You like swimming,” I said.
“I like lounging in the hot springs,” Arach corrected. “Not splashing about in cool water.”
“You take baths,” I persisted.
“Also hot,” Arach said. “Is your pool hot?”
“No.” I rolled my eyes.
“Daddy,” Rian whined and looked at his father with worried eyes.
“Don't worry, Son”–Arach clutched Rian close–“I would never force you to swim in water.”
“In vater?” Kirill asked. “Isn't that the only thing you can swim in?”
“There's wine.” Azrael chuckled. “Don't you remember the pools in Heaven?”
“Da”–Kirill's smile turned lecherous as he shifted his stare to me–“I remember. I liked ze vine and oil.”
“Or jello, there's always jello,” Re added. “Though that oil sounds fun.”
“It is,” Azrael confirmed with a wicked smile. “But the honey is better.”
Arach was looking at my men in horror. “I meant lava, you heathens! Mind your perverted tongues around my sons!”
“Lava?” Trevor gasped. “What the–?”
“It's nice if you're a dragon,” I explained.
“Really nice,” A
rach said with a meaningful look at me.
“Dear god, Vervain, is there anything that you haven't had S-E-X in?” Emma asked, trying her best to mind her tongue since the others weren't.
“Jello,” Re said in exasperation. “I've been trying to get Vervain to join me, but she refuses; which is especially annoying now that I know what she's already consented to.” Re rolled his eyes toward me. “Honey, La-la? You'll do it in honey, but not jello? Honey is so much harder to get off.”
“I know.” Azrael smirked. “That's the point.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Arach took our sons and faeries back to the Fire Kingdom, Fenrir took the wolves back to his island in the Nine Norse Worlds, and all of my lions went to sleep in Pride Palace, content that the littlest lion was home at last.
My dreams were peaceful, no more crying babies within them, and I was a little surprised when a sound woke me in the early morning. I had gone to sleep snuggled up around Lesya with Kirill pressed in against her other side. Re had gone home, and my other husbands had slept in their tower rooms to give Kirill and me some alone time with our daughter. It was just the three of us in the room... or so I'd thought. I opened my eyes to see Sekhmet standing at the foot of my bed, cradling Lesya in her arms as she rocked her gently.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I growled.
Sekhmet looked up in fright. She clutched Lesya tighter, and Lesya began to cry. Without looking away from me, Sekhmet bounced my daughter, cooing to her, as I leapt out of bed and rushed over to her. Sekhmet barely put up a fight when I snatched Lesya away. Kirill woke up and was beside us in an instant, snarling at Sekhmet as he simultaneously made sure that Lesya was unharmed.
“I'm sorry,” Sekhmet whined as she crumpled to the floor, “I just wanted to see her one more time.”
“We meant no harm, Godhunter.”
I turned toward the new voice and saw Bastet standing just inside my bedroom's doorway.
“You brought her here?” I hissed at Bastet. “After all she's done?”
“Sekhmet has nothing left,” Bastet pleaded for understanding. “She's lost her child, her mind, her husband, your child, and then finally, her magic. Please have some pity on my sister.”
“Pity?” Kirill growled. “She kidnapped our daughter.”
“But Father told me that the baby she took wasn't really Lesya,” Bastet reasoned as Sekhmet wept.
My husbands came pouring down the stairs at each of the front corners of the room. They surrounded us, blocking the exits.
“What in all the realms is going on here?” Odin snapped.
“I just wanted to see the baby,” Sekhmet cried. “I want my baby.”
“She's not your baby,” Trevor snarled.
“Stop,” I whispered, closing my eyes briefly. “Leave her be.”
Everyone went still, even Lesya stared up at me expectantly. The only sound was Sekhmet's sobs; the gut-wrenching sorrow of a childless mother with a broken heart and broken mind. Ma'at had once told me that the true test of a person's worth lied not in how they handled victory, but how they handled defeat. Sekhmet was being destroyed by her defeat, and I couldn't bring myself to behave as my enemies once had to me. I'd had my justice; now it was time for mercy.
I went over to Sekhmet and stood silently before her. Slowly, she realized that I was there, and she looked up at me. I held a hand out to her, and Sekhmet stared at it like she didn't know what it was.
“Take my hand,” I said gently.
Sekhmet slid her hand into mine, and I wrapped my fingers around her cold palm. I helped her to her feet, and then I gently handed her my daughter.
“Vervain,” Kirill growled.
But I didn't answer him; I was too busy watching Sekhmet's expression shift into joy. She cradled Lesya to her chest and stroked her soft hair. I felt Kirill looming behind me, body tensed, ready to reach for his daughter at any moment. I took his hand and squeezed it. He started to relax as I looked up at him, letting him feel my compassion. It was easy to be generous when you had claimed the victory. Sekhmet had nothing left for her, what was the harm in allowing her a few moments with the real Lesya?
Sekhmet sat on the rug before us and rocked Lesya, singing softly to her. Sekhmet's hair was wild around her, her eyes swollen, and her face reddened, but her expression was one of sublime happiness, and she was exceptionally gentle with Lesya. Bastet came up beside me, tears streaming down her cheeks, and pulled me into a hug.
“Thank you, Vervain,” she whispered. “Thank you for this kindness; I won't forget it.”
“You're welcome. Now, I need you to fetch Sekhmet's living child,” I said as we eased apart.
“Nefertum,” Bastet whispered. “Yes, you're right, he may be able to help his mother.”
“And get Re too,” I added. “He went home last night.”
Bastet looked at me with a question she didn't dare ask. When I didn't answer her, she simply nodded, casting one last look at her sister before she left.
“She has lost her mind,” Azrael whispered sadly. “Shall I comfort her, Carus?”
“No, she's happy as she is.” I nodded to Sekhmet.
Sekhmet had laid her cheek on Lesya's head, closing her eyes in peaceful pleasure. All Sekhmet had wanted was another baby to love, a way for her to focus on something besides the yawning eternity that stretched before her. Now, eternity and her child were both lost to her. So, these memories she was making with Lesya would be critical if she had any hope of returning to sanity. And I was shocked to find that I wanted that for her. Sekhmet was Re's daughter. Yes, she'd done horrible things to me, but I loved her father, and that counted for a lot with me.
My men and I formed a loose circle around Sekhmet, keeping a careful watch over Lesya and her aunt. That's right, Sekhmet was Lesya's aunt in a way, and Lesya could only benefit from having another lion goddess in her life. Except, Sekhmet was no longer a goddess.
“Mother?” A man walked into the room along with Re and Bastet.
He looked young, maybe early twenties, though that couldn't be his true age. His hair was short and dark, and his intense stare matched it in color. He had tanned skin, a lithe body, and a beautiful face. I could see Re in him.
Sekhmet looked up in surprise, focusing on the man in confusion. She looked down at Lesya, then back at her son.
“Nefertum?” Sekhmet asked warily.
“Yes, Mother, it's me.” He crouched before her. “I thought that you were over losing the child?” He gently laid his hand on his mother's wild, golden hair. “Why did you take Vervain's baby?”
“I don't know,” she whimpered as she looked down at Lesya. “I don't know where my baby is. Isn't this my daughter?”
“No, Mother, your baby was a boy, but he died,” Nefertum said softly. “This is Vervain's daughter. She's a lioness too. I think that's why you're confused.”
“Oh.” Sekhmet frowned. “Yes, you're right. My child is gone.” Then she looked at Lesya. “She has dark hair like yours was when you were a baby, Nefertum.”
“Yes, she does.” Nefertum stroked Lesya's head. “She's a beautiful child. But you will have your own daughter someday.”
“No, I won't,” Sekhmet said bleakly. “My husband is dead, along with my baby. My magic is gone. I have no one to give me a child and no power to give a baby, did I even have one.”
“Sekhmet,” Re cried out softly, “why did you have to betray me?”
“Father?” She looked up. “I never betrayed you. I have always protected and loved you. Why would you call me a traitor?”
“You did betray me,” Re said sadly as he eased forward. “You took Vervain's child. I love Vervain and so any harm you do her is done to me.”
“A crow.” Sekhmet scowled. “I stole a crow, not a baby.”
“Yes, but you thought it was Lesya at the time,” Re said. “Intentions are everything, especially in our world.”
Sekhmet stood, and as she did, Nefertum gently scooped Lesya up, out of
Sekhmet's arms. Sekhmet turned to him, looking as if she were about to protest. Nefertum smoothly pulled a blue flower from his pocket and held it beneath his mother's nose. She calmed instantly, her body relaxing and her eyes going glassy. Nefertum handed me Lesya with an apologetic look. I looked down at my daughter, a little surprised that she hadn't protested any of this shuffling. She stared up at me solemnly, as if she knew the situation was sad. Then Lesya took hold of my starlight hair, as was becoming her habit. She pulled it forward and held it against her cheek. I hoped that being around that crow goddess hadn't rubbed off on Lesya. Didn't crows have a thing for shiny objects?
“I'm sorry for any pain that my mother has caused you, Vervain,” Nefertum whispered. “She's a good woman, she just sometimes loses her senses within her ferocity.”
I nodded and handed Lesya to her father, extricating my hair from her expertly. Kirill's tension left as soon as he held our daughter. He backed quickly away from everyone else, as far from Sekhmet as he could get. Now that Kirill had Lesya, he wasn't about to let anyone take her away from him.
“I'm sorry,” Sekhmet whispered, and when I looked over to her, I realized that she was speaking directly to me. “I'm sorry for what I did to you. I truly am.”
Everyone looked at me, waiting for my response. I walked over to Sekhmet, and suddenly, my love magic rose inside me. The butterflies were flapping in my chest, urging me to set them loose. I laid my hands on Sekhmet's shoulders and did something that surprised everyone, including myself.
“I forgive you,” I said as I leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
Love was released, but it flowed into Sekhmet softly, a gentle wave of compassion. This wasn't romantic love or even familial love; this was love's power to ease heartbreak. It was the only healing I could do, and I willingly gave it to Sekhmet.
Sekhmet gasped and shuddered; then she fell forward into my arms. I gathered her to my chest as she cried. Her agony seeped away from her as my magic healed her, and soon, her tears dried, and her sobs faded. She finally backed out of my arms and looked at me steadily.
“Why?” Sekhmet asked me. “Why would you do that for me?”