"B… but Allfather!" Sirius exclaimed, his voice raw with disbelief.
Nanna's smile was venomous, reveling in their despair, basking in the ruin she had orchestrated. It wasn't victory she savored—it was their loss.
"My decision is law," Odin said, his tone cutting through the room like steel. "The two of you are forbidden. Don't try my patience."
Saoirse forced herself upright, her body trembling, every fiber of her being fighting against exhaustion. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, but she refused to yield.
"Alastor is his father! You have no right to tell us what we can and can't do!" Her voice cracked, but she pressed on, rising above her fatigue. "Mani is our god. He hasn't denied us!"
Her face was pale, but she burned with defiance. "He has blessed me with the power of Ithel. That means he sees me as worthy. Would you bring shame upon his servant and ban me from having offspring? I am the Luna of the Midgard wolves—leader of the pack I inherited from my brother, and—"
"Don't be foolish, girl," Odin interrupted, his voice cold and final. "All of the Aesir answer to me. If Mani gave you some special honor with that ice, I don't care. Sirius is forbidden. My decision is final. You can always hire someone else to give you offspring."
The insult hit like a slap, and a low growl rumbled in Saoirse's throat. Her wolf bristled, furious at the indignity, but her body betrayed her. Too weak to shift, too drained to fight, she slumped.
"Saoirse, are you okay?" Sirius asked, panic sharpening his tone.
She didn't answer. Her head tilted, and her body sagged, ice spreading across the floor beneath her. Blood trickled from her nose, a crimson thread against her pale skin. Her breathing was shallow.
Sirius froze, his gaze locked on her frail form. She should have healed by now. Sure, if a human had fallen from that height… but Saoirse wasn't human. She was stronger. She was supposed to be stronger.
Her face and hands- anywhere that wasn't covered with clothing. At least it seemed Nanna had given her clothing—it was all blistered. The pain so great, Saoirse had grown numb to it, but at a normal rate of healing, if she were human, it would take weeks to heal.
The realization hit him like a blade. The stress, the injuries, the gods—they were killing her. If she had been pregnant…
Something inside him snapped.
Looking at the state of his mate, his beast inside of him filled with rage. The voices blurred, muffled as though carried through water. Words floated in and out, meaningless syllables drowning in the weight of his thoughts.
"…unworthy to hold the title of Valkyrie… you shall all be stripped of your wings."
Screams erupted, sharp and pleading, slicing through the air like jagged glass. A hundred voices, layered and desperate, begged for mercy.
But there was no mercy. There never was.
Odin is not the God of mercy. Sirius, with his mind giving into his beast thought.
…..shring! Thud, the sounds of Odin's sword tearing through flesh and the cries of fallen angels begging for mercy, falling to their knees…..shring! The sound of his judgment rang out again…..shring! The cries of his loyal followers who's only mistake was to eat a meal with his banished kin.
Shring!
The voice of the woman who had spoken out against Nanna screamed. "Please Allfather! I spoke out against the goddess, but she shut me down! I dedicate my existence to you Allfather!"
The screams of the woman were in vain. Shring! Her wings fell to the floor.
The little girl, Sroka, as composed as she was was also screaming.
Where is Lachlan? Sirius' mind screamed out, is Lachlan watching all of this? Just like the girl?
Why is her father not taking her out of the room? Why is nobody doing anything to stop Odin's rampage?
Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Nanna's high heeled boots moved across the marble floor and then mead began pouring into a cup, deep and smooth, the liquid stream gurgling and then came to a stop with a splash. It was as if to her, nothing was going on outside of her perfect little world.
The sound of a chair scraped across the marble floor. Nanna took a quiet sip.
But it wasn't quiet to Sirius.
The world was never quiet.
Not for him.
Shring! The sound of Odin's sword rang out again. The women were suffering while Nanna calmly awaited her pardon.
Sirius gritted his teeth, his pulse pounding like a drumbeat in his ears. His beast stirred, claws scraping at the edges of his mind.
Shring! Sirius winced as another Valkyrie lost her wings. His own wings ached inside of him. Shring! Where was Odin's empathy?
"Odin has no empathy."
Shring! Another wing fell. Sirius's breath hitched. His own wings burned beneath his skin, a phantom pain that clawed at his sanity.
Shring! He winced, his fingers curling into fists. The sound of Odin's sword was louder now, louder than the cries, louder than Nanna's cold calm.
Shring! His beast roared within him, a primal, unrelenting howl. His body trembled, his control fraying with every swing of the blade.
Shring!
Shring!
Shring!
…..Shring! Sh...
The beast opened his eyes.