(no subject)
Nothing Ull does can surprise her anymore, thinks Skaði, bracing herself against the bedpost. She has known him for too long, been too close to him, seen him inside and out. He may try, but the last of his mysteries had fallen thousands of years ago.
He is beautiful, of course; all of their family are. And his shape is so strong, so male, so healthy, that any woman would be grateful to be in her place right now--but she feels no particular desire for him. She hasn't felt any since those games they had played long ago during the war, when they were young and she was in need of comfort. But that was so long ago it may as well have been someone else, and this Skaði is bored.
The walls are covered in gold, here in the bedroom of their ancestral home, gleaming in the flickering light of the lamp. Perhaps her father had made these golden shields and panels, perhaps as a wedding present for Ull's father. The panel on the wall over the bed couldn't be any older than that, not if it depicts Thor's expedition into Jotunheim to kill Skaði's giantess grandmother. Loki had been there too--ah, yes, that must be him, though it doesn't do him justice.
Now there was a man who could always surprise her. She could lie beside him, look into his eyes, and have no idea what he might be thinking. They could hunt each other in the forest, taking turns as hunter and as prey, and their games would go on for hours. They were too evenly matched; where she was an unparalleled outdoorswoman and hunter, he had an intimate understanding of how she thought, not to mention an infinite number of tricks. She did shoot him a few times, but never did any serious damage, and he never held it against her...
Ull's breath comes more quickly against her shoulder. Thjalfi, Ull's foster-brother, lies beside them in the massive old bed, still clothed, snoring softly. He had shown them such hospitality tonight it was as though they'd never given up their claims on the estate, as though they were being welcomed home. The feasting, drinking and songs had gone on for so long that the servants had had to carry Thjalfi to bed; Skaði and Ull had followed, not wanting to sleep on the floor of the hall with all the other inhabitants and guests. And why should they? Thjalfi doesn't look to be waking up anytime soon, and it is their grandfather's bed.
She wishes he would finish. Still, she needs him to do something for her that she'd rather not do herself, so it's only fair that she return the favor. A few moments of endurance in exchange for something more lasting--there. A small price to pay.
He wears sated smugness like a mask, stretching lazily before settling under the furs next to Thjalfi. It had been so long since she'd been with him like this, she'd almost forgotten that look.
She takes the outer edge of the bed; no man is going to block her in, not tonight. "As quiet as ever."
"And you," he says. "It's been too long--too long. We should meet more often."
"I'd hate to abuse your foster-brother's hospitality." She doesn't like this place anyway. Why dwell in the ruins of the past? Their family has been scattered into collective dishonor and individual glory. Better to stay that way.
"So come visit me instead. The house is so quiet, so empty--it needs a woman's touch."
She snorts. "Mine?"
"For one, yes." He reaches up to tug at a lock of her hair; she bats his hand away.
"You must really be lonely there."
"I like solitude, I like hunting or just walking in the mountains, but sometimes... it would be nice to have someone to come home to again."
"You're in luck," she says. "I have a daughter."
"That's--" He raises an eyebrow. "Not exactly what I had in mind."
"Well, what am I supposed to do with her? She's at an awkward age; all she does is mope around the house and get underfoot. She's not bad at housework, and she stays fairly calm under attack. Anyway, she's not yours. You can do as you please with her."
"I don't really need--"
"Keep her around to talk to you, and mend your socks. Foster her. I don't care." She leans her head back against the bedframe, and adjusts the pillows behind her. "I'm sure you know more eligible men than I do."
"I might," he says. "Should I ask who her father was?"
"A mortal of no consequence," she shrugs lightly. "He died well. That's the most that can be said of him."
"Fair enough."
She looks up at the gold wall-hangings, out at the flickering lamps, back down to Thjalfi and Ull. Strange; but then she can't ever remember being in the same place with both of them before, hasn't really seen Thjalfi since the war between Aesir and Vanir, and in any case Ull's current beard style is much more recent. Still...
"Something on your mind?"
Why not? "You and Thjalfi. I never thought you looked alike, before, but you do."
"Do we?" He glances to Thjalfi. "No more than anybody else. It must just be from being outdoors--"
"More than that."
"He's adopted," Ull says. "Found in the water not far from here, and taken into the family."
"But he had to come from somewhere. And if he looks like you..."
"I don't know anything else about that, just what I was told. What I've always been told."
"Of course you don't," she says. "Women keep the secrets. That's how it's always been. There's a lot you don't know."
"You keep secrets from me?"
"Always."
"Like what?" He tugs a bit, playfully, at the edge of the furs; she tugs them back into place.
"You wouldn't believe me anyway."
"You know I would."
"Mmm." She stretches slowly, stifles a yawn. "Ull, you're going to do something for me."
"Just name it."