Before the Great War, when I lived in Vanaheim and neither knew of Aesir nor ever set foot in Asgard, my sister Freya was my mate. She was the Sacred Whore of Vanaheim and didn't just belong to me, but she was the one I loved most. We lay together both for our own pleasure, and ceremonially for the fertility of Vanaheim: at the end of winter when the food seeds went into the ground, the height of spring when the seeds grew and were plants in bloom, the last harvest when the last of the growing things were reaped, and the beginning of winter to give our vitality to the people for their survival.

After the Great War, when Freya and I and our father went to live among the Aesir, the Aesir said by the laws of their land, my union to Freya and my father's union to our mother was null and void. The three of us took turns living in Asgard by the three seasons of the Aesic year, and would periodically all be allowed to be in Vanaheim at the same time to perform ceremonial functions there. Freya and I still lay together and our parents did also, as part of the ceremony, but this was not talked about with the Aesir.

I had been content with Freya, and the other lovers who came to offer themselves to me to increase their own life force, or beget child, or be healed. But in Asgard, much of that stopped, and I felt lonely. My manservant, Skirnir, arranged for me to spend time with some of the Aesir women, but I did not care much for them. They were too formal, and not earthy enough the way I liked my women. More to the point, none of them seemed to get my role as priest to the Aesir, general manager of Ljossalfheim, and sacral and sacrificed king of the Vanir. I wanted a partner, not an arm-trophy.

About five Aesic calendar cycles after our arrival, Freya left Asgard for a time. This was also when Odin was exiled and my uncle Ullr was put in his place to rule. I could only assume Freya was spending time with Odin, but she was also fond of going off on whims and doing her own thing, so I wanted to make sure. Since Odin wasn't there to mind, I decided to use his high seat to see if I could spot my sister. I already knew seiðr as did the rest of the Vanir, using the high seat would make it easier. Hlidskjalf was the highest place in the Nine Worlds, and all worlds could be seen. Odin constructed it shortly after we arrived, with Freya's help.

As soon as I sat on Hlidskjalf, the Sight opened my eyes and I was able to see each of the Nine Worlds. I smiled at my people in Midgard, admired the beauty of Ljossalfheim, and tried not to tarry in Muspellheim in too long for it was too hot for my liking.

When I watched Jotunheim, the Sight led me to a castle ringed by fire. I looked in past the flames, and saw a young woman walking out of the castle, holding a basket. She was tall, and stocky, wearing a long brown dress with long sleeves and a high collar, her hair in an elaborate braid wound about her head. Intrigued despite myself, I followed her to a walled garden, where she put the basket down, and then stood with her arms spread. I watched as her feet took root in the ground, and her arms collected the light and heat of the sun, while she herself projected light from within her. My breath caught in my throat as her long sleeves fell slightly and the light formed in a haze around her arms. I saw the serene look on her face, and the great power building within and around her, I felt the way the ground, the seeds, shoots, leaves and grass were responding to her. And I responded to her, wanting that kind of presence at my side. I tried to reach out to her with my mind, but as soon as I did that, the Sight closed and I fell out of the high seat, onto the floor.

I tried to forget about it.

The harder I tried to forget about seeing her, to forget about the light and the power and the way Earth rose to her power... the deeper the thought was burned into my mind, the more it replayed over and over again in my head. I felt sad, wanting her by my side and knowing it was most likely impossible, yet knowing it was her and only her who I would want as my life mate.

Others noticed my sadness. I once greatly enjoyed food and strong drink, but now could not eat or drink. I spent a lot of time sleeping, and not enough time answering those who petitioned me in Midgard. I did not want the companionship of my friends.

I wanted to be alone, to think about this woman, and to mourn the life I had not chosen, living most of the year in Asgard or Ljossalfheim on business, and returning to Vanaheim just to give my life each year, not knowing if I would be kept in Hela's realm for dead, or spared and turned back to the land of the living. I knew that my yearly death was for the greater good, and the knowledge of people suffering because I wouldn't do anything was enough for me to give myself, and to give myself willingly for the joy and celebration afterwards, both the adoration of me and the peace generated among people. I had no regrets, ultimately. But... whether a mortal or a God, one can only sacrifice so much. And knowing I could spend the rest of my life alone due to my entire life being a sacrifice, wasn't sitting well with me.

Finally, Skirnir intervened, asking me what was wrong. Being that he was half-elf, lying to him or trying to evade the question wasn't going to work. I told him, and predictably, he laughed. He told me who she was - Gerda the daughter of Gymir, a very important chieftain in Jotunheim, who was important to trade with Vanaheim.

"It would be great strategically," Skirnir said, "but realistically, good luck both with Gymir and with any Jotun women... they are rough as it comes."

I thought of her again, and Skirnir said, "You could have any woman among the Vane, the Ase, or the Alfar... and you'd have an easier time of it."

But I didn't want easy. I didn't want the vapid Aesir women who couldn't put their fingers in the soil and get dirty. I didn't want a Vanir-wife because it was too familiar. The Alfar were a lovely people, but quite odd. This Jotun woman, she had power that I had seen with nobody else. Her life force was an equal or perhaps even superior match for mine. I wanted her, wanted to taste her essence, entwine with her soul.

I was afraid she would reject me.

"You will win her for me," I told him.

Skirnir laughed again, except this time it was a nervous laugh. When he realized I wasn't joking, he agreed on the condition that I give him my horse, Blodughafi, and my sword. I was reluctant to part with my sword, it being the best in the Nine Worlds and entrusted to me because I knew how to use it, and my oath that I would not wield another blade if I parted with it. Yet I was more reluctant to lose her, and I couldn't go to her myself. I didn't want to make a fool of myself. I was known for wielding my words well, like my father, but when I thought of her I became tongue-tied. I didn't want to say or do the wrong thing. Skirnir, being a master at glamor, would be a much better representative of my interests.

I could not just send him there without a bride-price, so I arranged with my kinswoman Idunna for some of her apples, and took Draupnir from Odin's bedchamber since it was apparent he wasn't using it wherever he was and I would arrange to have something made in its place. On my way out from Odin's bedchamber I saw Frigga, who smiled at me knowingly and nodded, to let me know she approved even if Odin would not.

At dawn the next morrow I presented Skirnir with my sword, the apples, and Draupnir, and watched him ride away on my horse. For a split second I knew giving away my sword and my horse, I would be losing them forever, and I would be seen as having lost status when compared with the Aesir. I knew many would look at me as a fool. But I said to myself, If I am to be a fool, let me be a complete one. There is more to life than war and its spoils. And so I let him ride away, hoping that he would be able to persuade Gerda Gymirsdottir of my intent.

Sunna sank, and Mani rose over the hills. I paced back and forth, wishing my sister were here, wishing for someone to talk to, and yet not knowing if I would be able to speak of my deep longing for her... what I had seen within her... my deep need for her to be the one, at my side.

Skirnir came back late into the night, his face taut. He was a bit disheveled, which I would expect from a long journey, but he was silent the first few minutes upon coming back, even while dismounting and taking off his gear, very unlike him. Finally he turned to me and said, "In nine days time, she will meet you in the Barri Woods and discuss the terms of marriage."

I squealed, and reached out to squeeze him before I could stop myself. Skirnir pushed me back slightly and said, "I had to give her father your sword."

I stopped in my tracks. "What?"

"That means half my payment is gone. But even more than that, I would daresay Gymir is not exactly on the best terms with the Aesir. I don't think he has good plans for that sword. The giants don't care about golden apples or golden rings. They care about blades that can kill... and this blade can kill Gods, as you know."

I sighed. "What do you suggest?"

"I'm not suggesting anything. If you tell them, obviously they will tell you that you can't marry her, and that's unacceptable. Still, you should be aware that was a pure strategic move." Skirnir smirked. "Not that I'd be sad to see anything come to these Aesir, but I can't let anything happen to you, either. We swore an oath, long ago."

"That we did." I sighed again. "What would you like in payment in lieu of the sword?"

Skirnir clapped me on the shoulder. "Just be happy, man. You are marrying one fierce giantess there... I truly hope she makes you happy for all the trouble I went to and all the trouble you'll see of it."

He handed me the apples and Draupnir. Then he departed to his hall, without saying more.




The nine days dragged on. And on. And on. I had even more difficulty sleeping, could barely eat, and didn't want to talk about my longing.

Freya came back on the third day, and she knew. I didn't even have to tell her. She embraced me and said, “You need someone. I am happy for you.”

As we embraced, I felt her own loss for Oðr, the horrible knowledge that he was most likely gone forever, and the smile she put on each day to face the worlds, to continue doing her job for the Aesir, Vanir, and the people of Midgard. She had a love that was irreplaceable and even as it was gone, she had been completed by that love, and wanted me to taste it as she had.

There was no need for words. We could See into each other's hearts, and all was laid bare, making words clumsy and useless.

Nerthus, our mother, had other opinions, though. She was not happy I was marrying outside my kind, living by the law of the Aesir and “cheapening” the sacred marriage with my sister. She could not understand the need to move forward to keep the peace. There was anger in her eyes, a cold fire that usually meant someone would die. And she said, indeed, “I could smite her, I could kill her and not even Her Ladyship would find her.” She smiled, a thin, sarcastic smile. Then, her face softened and she spoke with one voice (not many), “But if you are happy, then you will wed her by our customs, in our land. I will make the union sacred.”

The thought of marrying Gerda in my land, in front of my people, was enough for me to smile as the image played across my mind, but not enough to distract me for long. I wondered if she would divorce me, if she would find me unsuitable in some way. I wanted to be worthy of her, even as she would be the strength at my side when I carried out my duties.

On the ninth night, I went alone to the Barri Woods, dressed in a dark cloak over my usual kingly garb. I blended in well with the forest and the night. It was a time of solemnity for me, when our Wyrd would be sealed. The celebration could come later.

She was waiting for me there, in a long brown dress and matching headcovering. She had no expression on her face, and no trace of anxiety in her body language. As I quivered, she was a rock, sitting upon a rock.

I bowed to her. She did not move.

“Thank you for meeting me here,” I told her.

“I'm surprised you showed,” she said with a slight smirk. “I thought you would send your manservant again.”

“I would miss a great opportunity,” I said.

She stopped smirking, and her eyes narrowed. I sensed displeasure even though I could not read her in the way I could read everyone else. It seemed that she was either intentionally closing off my Sight, or we truly were not meant to connect. The latter filled me with dread, and before pride could stop me, I asked, “Is something amiss, Lady?”

“You did send your manservant to me,” she said, “rather than coming to me yourself. Do you lack courage? Or do you think I could be so easily bought?”

I sighed. I had expected this. But how do you tell someone so strong that you do, indeed, lack courage? It does not make for a promising husband. “I thought you would reject me,” I said, and looked down at my feet.

She chuckled. “You, who anyone in the worlds would lay with in an instant? Afraid I would reject you? Tell me, you must be joking.”

“No.” I looked into her eyes, and they softened.

Our eyes held, and for just a moment the Sight was able to get through: I saw her in the solace of her garden, speaking to the soil and the plants with her mind, loving them as she would a pet or a child. I saw her singing softly as she did embroidery or inscribed words upon a scroll. I saw her walking through the woods, content with her own company. I saw her sit by herself while her siblings played, and other of her giant friends, and I saw the comments she received of being “too stand-offish” or “a strange girl”. I saw her amazed that the Golden One of Vanaheim would take interest in her, and the suspicion she held as she watched the fallen be laid to rest in Jotunheim, as a result of Aesir-Jotun conflict. She did not know what to make of me, and I saw, finally, Skirnir threatening her with runes, and her thoughts that she should comply to stop him or someone close to her from getting killed in a skirmish.

I tried to reach out to touch her mind with my light, but could not get through, yet. And just as quickly as the images came to my mind, the wall went up again, and the Sight was forbidden. She looked away, into the distance.

“I don't know what you would have of me, Vanir Lord,” she said, “but I am Gymir's daughter, an herbalist and cunning-woman. Your gold and your status mean little to my life.”

“I could offer you love,” I said. “For you would mean more to me than my gold and my status.”

She paused, and looked at me, considering. Her eyes strayed a moment to my torc, which was only partially concealed by my cloak. She looked at my arm-ring, and the bells on the hem of my garb. She pulled her own cloak closer about her, as if there were a chill in the air. The scowl dropped from her face, as she bit her lip, perhaps not knowing what to say.

“My sword has been given to your family,” I replied, “and I swore long ago I would bear no other. I know what this would cost me. But you are worth the cost.”

“I don't know what to say,” she said, confirming my thoughts.

“Say yes,” I said. “Anything that is mine, is yours. My heart, my loyalty. You say you are an herbalist and cunning-woman. These are good things, respected among my people. You will have a place there, at my side. Your skill is needed. But I need you, the woman behind the skill.”

“Do you?” she sneered. “You don't even know me.”

“I know what I saw,” I cried before, again, my pride and my logic could stop me. “I know what I saw from Odin's high seat, when I looked down and saw you there. I know who you are. I know you.”

“You are mad,” she said, and then, “but I will see how you please me.”

She took off her cloak, and stepped forward to me. I reached out to embrace her, and she melted, becoming as soft as water on my body. I held her close, letting her listen to my heartbeat. I touched her mind, and let her see what was there for her, if she would have me. And then I touched her body, and we lay together.

Hours later, as we lay beneath our cloaks and the stars hung above us, Gerda stroked my hair absently, and said, “Ingvi.”

“Yes, love.”

“Does it hurt to die, every year?”

I thought this an odd question, but not odd enough to answer. “Yes,” I said. “I feel the pain when I am sacrificed.”

“But you come back.”

“I do,” I said, “with a little bit of my life force gone more and more each time.”

“Why do you do it?”

“I die so that others may live,” I said.

“And are you afraid you won't come back?”

“Every time,” I responded, truthfully. “I know eventually I will have enough of my life force left with Her Ladyship, that I cannot be among the living.”

Gerda was silent, with this.

“If you fear you marry a dead man,” I said to her, stroking her face now, “it is your strength that will sustain me. Your life that gives me reason to come back. To keep enough strength to live, yet.”

She rested her head on my heart, and we slept.

In the morning, when the dawn rose and the birds began to sing in the trees, we noticed a ring of golden flowers had bloomed around where we lay. All of the life in Barri seemed more vibrant, and alive. A piece of fruit fell from a tree as I walked her to my wain, and I offered it to her as she squealed with joy. It was the end of winter, but here was full spring, in this place. We had brought life, with our love. I took it as a good omen.




We married, first before her family in Jotunheim, then before my family in Vanaheim. Odin and Frigga demanded we be wed in Asgard to make the marriage legal there, but I could tell straight away that Gerda did not like being in Asgard, and after several weeks of living there with me as I was on “official business”, she packed and told me she couldn't stand it anymore.

Odin gave us permission to go to Vanaheim early and have a honeymoon, and so we did. All of Vanaheim rejoiced as we rejoiced, enjoying each other's company as we got to know each other deeply and found much in common, as well as things not in common that were still interesting anyway.

One night Gerda came to me, as I was basking in the rays of Mani and recharging myself, and said, “There is life in my womb.”

My heart leapt and I reached out to embrace her, but she held me back.

“I cannot in good conscience bear a child that will be given as a hostage to the Aesir,” Gerda said, “as any child of ours would. I cannot make them choose against what is half their family.”

I wept, because I knew what she said to be true. And by the ways of my people, I knew not to interfere. “You may do what you must,” I told her. “I cannot fault you for it.”

Gerda embraced me then, pulling me to her heart, holding me in the arms that shimmered with light and vitality, and now felt like rocks keeping me safe within a fortress. “We can foster the children of men,” Gerda said. “They need us.”

I wept, and Gerda wiped the tears from my eyes. She rubbed them on my nose, which made me smile a little. “And all living things are our children,” she said, reaching out to touch my mind and show me the fields of Barri where we lay, on our first night together.

And so once a year, on the anniversary of our night in Barri, we return to Barri and lay there, raising power. We give the love and its ecstasy to give life to all the worlds, and Barri blooms with golden flowers, ripe fruit, a pocket of early spring while Vanaheim still partly sleeps... a triumph of life over death, prodding the rest of the worlds to wake from slumber and be alive again. Then we look out into Midgard and choose from among its people, to call into our fold, as our family. Our family throughout the ages of man is as numerous as the stars, and like the stars, some are big, some are small. All of our children, like the stars, give light in the darkness, wishes to Wyrd, hope to the worlds.