[Just to note: Any grammar or spelling errors in the letter are intentional. Anything else, though, is accidental.]
~Chapter Ten: Llŷr~
It is on the eve of the day I sent out the letters that I receive Hades' response. Despite the fact that he had many hours to write it, though, it seems hastily-written and continues some mistakes that, had I not learned Greek for Atlas, I would not have been able to understand it.
-
Ainmire,
Though I had hoped that your respond would be more affirmative, I understand that your king may change his mind at a later date, so I would simply ask that you keep my informed of changes as they happen or ahead of time, if you have been warned. I also approve of your decision to request help from Odin and his ilk, though I find myself doubting whether they will help or not, regardless of your connection to them. Either way, I will factor them into the plan and make sure they will be able to access, even if temporarily, my realm, should you need an extraction.
The plan will go as such:
On the day we are freed of Veles' oath, Zeus will almost certainly call my family to Olympus to discuss our plans for the war since it has kept him from holding war meetings. I will go, as I will be expected to attend, and while I am reasonably 'distracted,' you will meet with someone - I have yet to decide who - that will guide you through Tartarus. It will be up to you to releas them as quickly as possible; you might have, at most, ten minutes after the first Titan is freed. You should be able to teleport out directly, but if the wards seal, you will need to escape Tartarus and teleport from my realm.
For now, I will keep the plan vague, but it will be up to the one who will escort you to fill you on the details. Just be ready on the day the vow ends, and wait until I send you a letter before entering my realm. Until then, you are, as always, welcome in my realm as a guest, and I look forward to our success.
Hades
-
In my letter to him, I had kept my disconnection from my pantheon a secret, as that is still not something I want Hades to be privy to, so I merely said that the Dagda may change his mind if he no longer likes the plan closer to the enactment of it or if circumstances demand alterations. Since the Dagda is - or used to be - very decisive, I am not certain if Hades entirely bought this half-truth, but since he did not call me out on it, I will have to assume that it was not obvious enough for him to start questioning my desire to see this through.
At the very least, he seems to want to see me see this through.
Still, I am not sure I trust him. Even with both Cronus and Rhea backing up the decision to trust Hades, the fact that Cronus originally had to ask his wife her thoughts on Hades' trustworthiness is concerning. After all, Cronus would only have asked if he was concerned that personal bias may be impairing his decision-making skills, and Rhea has already shown that she is biased towards her children, as she originally protected Zeus - albeit hesitantly and more out of motherly love than believing that her youngest was correct in his goals - during the Titanomachy. So, if Cronus, fearing bias, went to his biased wife, it makes me a bit skeptical of how biased their decision might be.
Especially since Atlas happens to still be on the fence.
Still, I have no intention of backing out now. I just...I just have to make sure the Dagda is not going to do that for me.
- - - - - - -
It is three days later that someone arrives with a letter from the Dagda, which is both earlier and later than I was expecting. Depending on how he reacted, I thought he would either immediately send someone or think about it for a few days and perhaps wait to contact my uncle in Faerie, which runs on different time, or Annwn, though it would be hard to contact him there than Faerie. So, when no one arrived on the first day, I was bracing for someone to arrive on the fourth or fifth day. Yet, it is noon of the third day when Ullr arrives to inform me that Odin is calling for me because someone has arrived for me.
And I feel woefully unprepared, though I imagine that wouldn't have changed no matter what day it is.
When I enter the throne room with Ullr only a few steps behind me, however, I realize just how unprepared I actually am. Llŷr, god of the sea, is far older than me - as most gods of my pantheon are - though he is also one of the few ancient gods that have chosen not to show his wisdom through age. There is some silver in his dark hair, but his sun-darkened skin is smooth with youth. He has changed somewhat since I last saw him, though, as those few streaks of silver were certainly not there when I knew him.
Not...that I knew him all that well to begin with.
The fact that he is here, though, is more of a surprise than his physical appearance. My pantheon has no god specifically assigned to delivery or communication - unless one was born after my imprisonment - so while I was expecting the Dagda to send someone whose duties usually lie elsewhere, if he did not come himself, I was expecting someone like Branwen, the goddess of love, or someone else who is powerful enough to be safe in entering another realm and complete their assigned tasks without fear while still charming a, while not allied, friendly pantheon.
Llŷr is powerful, but he is not charming. So powerful, in fact, that he could likely fight the Dagda for the crown and win, if he so chose. He also hardly ever leaves the oceans of the Otherworld, so I am not sure why he, of all gods, would have agreed to this.
"Hello, Llŷr," I greet cautiously, watching as his narrowed eyes land on me as I walk through the door and stop a fair distance away. Though I do not know him well, I can tell that he wants me to come closer, but I am not stupid.
And I'm also not sure if I could will my legs to carry me even an inch further.
After all, Llŷr is someone the Dagda might call if he needs to overpower a magic god but does not have time to do it himself. I am powerful, but I have also been out of commission for a long time, and the ancient gods are not counted among those I could easily face down in a fight. Nor would I want to.
Nor should I, as my letter made it fairly clear I am done running.
Because I am watching him closely, I notice the moment his crossed arms twitch before he starts tapping his finger against his crossed arms in a steady rhythm that I suspect means he is counting to ten. Or fifty, as his silence does not end at ten but instead stretches out long beyond what is an acceptable pause. Loki even clears his throat, hoping to prompt Llŷr into speaking, but the sea god completely ignores him in favor of tapping his bare bicep and staring back at me.
When he does speak, though, what he says almost makes me wish he had stayed silent. "I'm o' half the mind to grab you by your ear and drag you back to the Otherworld, kicking and screaming if I must," he muses unkindly, his finger still tapping and likely contributing to his almost bland tone, even though his words suggest that he is as far from neutral as he can be. "Gwyn would pro'ly even kiss me."
Since Llŷr and Gwyn have never gotten along, and that is one thing I know that could not have changed, especially since my uncle was still complaining about Llŷr only a few years ago, my brow twitches in an aborted attempt to raise it, and I ask, "And the other half?"
"The other half o' me respects," he pauses, seemly considering his audience for a brief moment, "the Dagda's plans."
Which are?
The fact that he does not elaborate on what those plans are almost makes me nervous enough to take a step back towards the doors. Since that would do me absolutely no good at all should those plans be something I would not like, though, I hold my ground and instead try to keep my posture as not defensive as possible.
Which is honestly not very.
I glance at Odin, wondering why he has yet to cut in, as we are in his throne room in his realm, talking as if he is not present, but the king merely watches me in return, seeming entirely too mild-mannered for the situation. Clearly, though, he has no intention of interrupting at this point. After all, this is likely what he was hoping for from the start - that I would talk directly to someone from my pantheon - so it would seem he is leaving this to me. He also might be waiting for me to make a mistake big enough that Llŷr will cut his losses with the Dagda and drag me home. And Loki seems to almost be hoping for that, if his frown following Llŷr's statement is anything to go by, though I cannot tell if that is his chaotic nature or just because he does not want my plan with Hades to go through.
"Which half are you going to listen to?" I ask, crossing my arms and trying not to itch at my skin anxiously. Due to my limited interactions with him Before, I have no frame of reference to draw upon to guess at his motives for being here. At the very least, the way he phrased what he said implies that the Dagda might not want him dragging me to the Otherworld, but even if the Dagda has something else in mind, Llŷr might just be here to bring me back regardless.
Some gods don't take kindly to those who hide from their own pantheon.
"Have'n decided yet," he replies, raising his brow at me, as if asking me to give him a reason to make a decision. Since I am not sure what he wants to hear, though, I just keep my mouth shut, and eventually, realizing that I have nothing to say, he sighs. "You want to hear the Dagda's message for you?"
'Message,' not his plans?
Since the answer is a definite 'no,' and I am afraid my mouth will say just that if I open it, I make a fluttering gesture - it was supposed to be smooth, but my hands are too shaky, damn it all - for him to go ahead. "Right," he grunts, obviously noting my shakiness but choosing to do no more than give me a brief once-over. "The Dagda will let you see this through on the condition that you immediately bring your Titan and yourself - as well as any who company you - to the Otherworld. And there you will stay until such a time that he deems you of sane enough mind to leave."
"'Sane enough mind'?" I echo, my fingers turning white on my forearms as I fight to keep myself still. "The Dagda thinks me mad?"
I'm not mad; my mind is just broken...but what's the difference?
Llŷr scoffs. "He hardly thinks you're completely there," he says, gesturing towards his head for emphasis. "You'd have come home by now if you were, Little One. You wouldn't be running."
"Maybe I just didn't want to be locked away again," I point out, glancing warily at Odin. Since I am once again met by his passive stare, I quickly look back at Llŷr.
"That wasn't originally his doing; it was Lugh's, and it was for your own good," Llŷr replies, uncrossing his arms and taking a step closer. He does not approach, though, either aware that I would not take that well or not wanting to cross the distance between us just yet. "You were in your early years of godhood and blinded by love; you would have gotten yourself killed."
That doesn't sound reassuring.
Pulling my arms to me a little tighter, I demand, "And how is that different than now?"
"You're not as naive, for one," Llŷr replies dryly, though no less genuinely, or so it would seem. "Circumstances aside, you're also older, and you've existed out from under the rooves of your parents and idiotic uncle for some time, if the witness accounts the Dagda has gathered are to be believed."
I shift my weight onto one foot before shifting to the other uncomfortably, trying not to glance at Odin, Ullr, or Loki - or any of the other handful of Norse gods present as Odin's court, which is frankly just embarrassing - as they should all know this considering the part they played originally in my recovery only a few years ago, but that does not mean I want to remind them. Still...
"And you have heard of what happened...during that time? When I was first free?"
"We've all heard," Llŷr replies, giving me another once-over, though slower this time, more assessing. "Gwyn was hardly quiet about it when you disappeared again, and the Dagda was not happy to hear that you nearly lost your magic and died."
I grimace but duck my head, accepting the disapproval in his tone. This only makes Llŷr grunt, though, and turn to Odin, apparently deeming our conversation over. At least, for now. "The Dagda gives his permission for Ainmire to free the Titans, and he sent me with his seal as proof," he says, pulling an ancient-looking wax seal stamp from the interior pocket of his long coat and tossing it to Loki rather than Odin.
It takes me a moment to realize why, as I have never seen that stamp before, but the faint glint to the faded metal eventually catches my eye as Loki turns it over in his hands - it contains magic. Not much, judging by how thin the magic is surrounding it, but it is likely enough to give off an impression, which would be the point. After all, a metal stamp would do little to act as proof since they are notoriously easy to steal and also stupidly easy to forge if one knows what to shape the seal as, but a magical impression cannot be faked.
"Does this assure you of the Dagda's intent and authorization behind this message?" Llŷr asks gruffly.
Odin looks to Loki, who stays silent for a long moment - it is likely that he is having to call upon very old memories to remember the Dagda's magical signature - but when Loki reluctantly nods, looking annoyingly displeased, Odin directs his attention to Llŷr. "I am satisfied with your proof," he announces, his tone as inflectionless as his face void of emotion. "Do you need anything of me?"
Llŷr seems to mull this over for a moment, which means that what he is about to ask is not something from the Dagda, but that does not seem to stop him. "Will you swear to do your utmost best to ensure Ainmire's safety while he is here and in Tartarus?" He asks. Upon noting Odin's closed-off silence, he adds, "I am not asking for the impossible to be done, merely what is within reason."
Ullr, who has been trying to make himself fade into the background since bringing me here, makes a noise that sounds insulted, and I take that to mean that he considers the impossible to be perfectly reasonable, as he would argue that, but everyone, including his step-grandfather, ignores him. "I swear it," Odin promises.
Since no one present is a god of oaths, and dabbling in magical oaths can be fairly dangerous without enough forethought into the wording, it is the authority and public acknowledgement behind the words that have more power here than magically-binding vows. Still, Llŷr seems perfectly fine with accepting this.
"I will take my leave, then," Llŷr says, bowing his head shallowly, as though he would not be able to get away without showing some amount of deference to a king god without being one himself, he is still powerful enough and old enough to get away with only a small show of respect. That, or he is actually doing it out of respect. It can be hard to tell with Llŷr. "And, Ainmire?"
I tense. "Yes?"
"Your mother wants you to know that you are going to be in a lot of trouble when you return home," Llŷr say, a smile dancing on his lips before he mockingly waves and leaves me to my despair.
[AN: So, not sure I like this chapter, but I don't dislike it, so I'm posting it as is. Also, for Llŷr - the 'Ll' doesn't have an English equivalent, so the closest pronunciation you might get to the name in English is Th-eer. And finally, I will not be posting next week; the next update will be Sunday the 15th. I hope you are all doing well, and have a great two weeks!]