My old love found me, and we fell together like crashing waves falling back to the sea. Both of us a quarter of a year splattered to cliff-face. Enough tears for a small sea between us, pooling on our chests, getting lost in my salt-damp hair.
We spoke of Freyr, of course. He tells me he cannot possibly hope to compare to a god in any way, and recites the litany of this year. I did not go looking for a god, and as one of Brand’s friends said to him, there are not many people who are willing to let gods be people, and so I am interested in Freyr as a person, not a deity. If he must compare himself with someone, he is comparing himself with another person, who has their own flaws, like anyone does.
I spoke about him to Freyr, who said similar things, phrased very differently; how can he compare to someone I have loved for so long and so deeply that I married?
Somewhere in the middle of this, I was saying to both that they were not the same person and I did not feel the same way — of course I did not feel the same way — but why would I want to, and why would they want me to?
I have, in this month of courtship, fallen in love with Freyr.
I have loved R. quite literally since the moment I met him.
There were terrible problems with his son, and it’s all very complicated, but we did not see each other for a long time, and I was not certain at all if we would or could still be together.
The day after I realized I was in love with Freyr, R. found me.
I thought I would have to choose. It was agonizing. R. did not want me to choose; he said Freyr had been good for me, and he hated the idea of ruining anything that had made me happy at all. So, that end being simplistic (though I wasn’t sure if I believed R. was doing the right thing for himself), things were necessarily complicated with Freyr, who has never wanted to share me.
Brand talks about how immobile I am when I have made up my mind about something, how I dig my feet in so far that it would require dismemberment to move me, and even then I would not change my opinion.
I was insistent, despite all advice to the contrary. The warnings to the contrary. The pages upon pages regarding godspousery about how the destruction of non-deity relationships is inevitable. That my entire life would be destroyed if I did not do exactly what was wanted, how it was wanted, when it wanted.
I have never agreed to jump when someone said it.
“Figure out how to share,” was my weary recommendation.
Despite the predictions regarding my undoing, he did sort it out.
I spent last night with him, and heard a story of Byggvir working to become one of Njordr’s servants, and to be given to Freyr when he was young, and then to be taken with him when he went to set up his own household, and of his similar tenacity in pursuing his wife, whose father also did not approve of their pairing. It seems to be a theme, this disapproval of fathers, in the love lives of anyone from that place.
Lacking a father (or a family, at all — Brand’s has adopted me), I am spared any drama of the sort.
We had not gone down for dinner, and it was ultimately brought up, and the fire built up. It is still cold there at night, especially. He asked if his habit of meat-eating bothered me, with my habit of lacto-vegetarianism (I like cheese). It doesn’t; he and the people in his country respect the animals they kill for food. They are grateful. They know they are eating something that was alive, and real.
I went to sleep listening to him breathe, the firelight flickering on his skin and on the insides of my eyes. He does not get particularly cold, and I seem to get very cold when I sleep there, without more blankets than he needs. I am bundled up appropriately whenever I get tired.
My blood pressure is low here, my circulation is not good, and my body temperature is lower than average. It may translate.
No one kisses me in the same way. No one holds me in the same way. I come alive differently in different arms.
Brand thinks I am naturally very monogamous, but my life has not turned out that way.