Asena POV
I sat on my bed that night with tears running down my cheeks as they did whenever I thought about my parents. Regrets from that final night always had a way of finding me. I hugged a pillow tightly to my chest and I thought about every detail I'd learned.
She glowed.
If I was the true cursed as Death had suggested...did I glow? Did my parents see me glow and never speak a word of it to anyone? Did my cries remind them of war cries? I had so many questions and the only person who could answer them was a figment of my imagination. I hadn't seen him since I sent him away.
I flicked my tears away.
"Death isn't real," I whispered to myself as I tucked myself beneath the covers. I pulled my hair into a messy bun and laid my head down. "Just a figment of my imagination due to stress and lack of sleep."
Outside, the wind blew and the sound reminded me of how that gust had cut over the field in my dream.
The thought of the dream put a pit in my stomach. I hated how that dream clung to me. It made me question whether it was truly a dream or not.
Freya, wife of Grimm.
How did I know she and I were forced to acknowledge the "affair"? Why did I know this "affair" had been explicitly forbidden and yet so worth it? I clasped my hands over my ears and squeezed my eyes shut.
I need answers.
Slowly, I lowered my hands from my ears, my eyes slowly lifting as I felt his present across the room. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded over his chest while his amber eyes searched my face. We stared at each other for a moment.
"You still don't think this is real." It wasn't a question.
"It's not."
He dropped his head in defeat. "And not even Rory confirming we were there confirmed anything?"
"Rory has always seen things."
"And you knew specific details about the meeting?"
I shrugged. "It's not hard to figure out what they were talking about."
He raised an eyebrow. "Your doubt is on shaky ground," he whispered, peeling himself off then wall. He came forward and leaned forward so our noses almost touched. "You've got questions." His breath fanned my face.
"I do."
"I have answers."
I searched his face for any hint of deception and found none. His eyes bore into mine and mine into his. Our gazes felt like a live wire, humming as we tried to figure the other out.
"You're desperate," he whispered, leaning on the bed which dipped under his weight. His nose was almost touching mine. "Let me help you."
I started to shake my head and then stopped. "Why me? Why me after over a thousand years?"
"Because it's always been you."
He lifted his hand and flicked my forehead.
~*~
I rummaged through the counter, looking for the healing tonic I'd made earlier that week. My trembling hands pushing aside the countless toys that the boys had taken from them in searching. I looked behind me and saw my mother, Freya, bleeding heavily from childbirth. Her face was unnaturally pale as she held the crying baby on her chest. Blood soaked the towels beneath her and I knew it wasn't good.
I blinked through the tears and knocked things aside.
"Asena," my mother cooed. "You did...so well."
"Damn it!" I throwing a wooden horse aside. "Where is it?"
"It won't help."
I spun around at the unfamiliar voice. It was like honey and silk and he had a face to match. Bright amber eyes, dark curls that hung to his chin, while he wore all black. "How would you know!?" I roared throwing a toy at him.
He didn't move and it didn't hit him—it hit the wall behind him. He looked at me, bored. "Look, I'm trying to help you. Save your energy by sitting by your mothers side while I take her."
Alarms went off in my head. "Take her where?" I demanded, my hand going to the knife on my hip.
"To the Other Side...Valhalla... you know, the ultimate goal?" He strode forward, his eyes narrowed. "Ring a bell?"
"You can't take her!" I blurt out, drawing the knife and pointing it at him.
"I can but I don't have to."
I glared at him, the point of my knife trembling. "You're lying."
"Your service in exchange of her life."
"Service?"
"You'll be my reaper for as long as I am Death," he said, a wicked grin spreading across his face; "or until I release you."
"Will I die?"
He shrugged. "It seems only fair." He looked down at Freya who was sleeping peacefully. "Your life... the life of the girl who bore the enemies son, in exchange for the woman raising a bastard." His eyes flicked dangerously to me. "Is her life worth that much?"
"And then some," I snarled. In a switch motion, I sliced my palm which a wince and extended my hand to him. "Save her," I whispered.
Death smiled, his teeth impossibly white. He reached out and I expected his hand to go through mine. The touch of his hand was startling; it was calloused but warm and gentle. He didn't let go.
"Gladly," he grinned. He flicked his hand at my mother and her color instantly returned. Before I could even sigh in relief, he pulled my hand flush with his chest so he could whisper into my ear; "Most would take you now, but I'm merciful. I'll return this evening for you. Say your goodbyes."
Then he was gone.
The babies cries caught my attention and I realized that my mothers eyes were fluttering. I wiped my hand on my skirts and went to her side, anxiety within my pinching my smile.
"It's a girl, mama," I told her. "You did so good."
Freya smiled dreamily and let out a long breath before letting her eyes flutter shut.
~*~
I wish I could tell you that dream...or Death...or Rory seeing us at the mausoleum was enough to shatter my denial... but it wasn't.