Chapter Twenty

"Don't call her that, Frigga," Freya warned, her voice deep and low.

"Don't talk to her like that, Freya," Enid said, but Freya slammed her fist down on the table, standing and pointing her spoon at Enid almost like she was wielding a dagger.

Frigga jumped, crying and sliding to cling to Enid as her sister screamed, "You are not our mother!"

"Stop shouting, Freya," Enid said. "You're scaring-," she started, but Freya slammed her fist down again, this time sweeping her bowl off the table and letting it fall to the floor with a loud crack.

"You are not our mother!"

"That's why I brought her," Ivar said, his voice cutting through the room. "She's not your mother, but if Frigga wants to call her that, then…" he shrugged, his eyes falling back to his bowl as he went for another scoop and for a moment that seemed to be it and Freya only stared at him, her shoulders sinking and sinking, a pained light springing to her eyes that Enid recognised.

"No," Enid said. "She can't call me that, I'm not her mother."

"She can call you whatever she likes," Ivar said.

"No, she can't!" Enid snapped. "I'm not her mother. I'm not Helga!" she said, and Ivar's face went pale, his jaw clenched together in a tight line and those terrible eyes darkened.

"Don't say her name, you don't get to say her name, slave," he warned.

"But it's true! I love these children, but I can't take her place. Helga was their only mother, I can never mean the same thing to them."

"Then get out!" Ivar snapped, suddenly standing and towering over her, tearing Frigga from her arms, pulling Enid to her feet and dragging her across the room.

"Far!" Tyr shouted, coming to stand in front of the door with his hands raised. "Leave her alone, you're hurting her!"

That scowl on Ivar's face deepened, turning to something darker, something twisted and broken.

"Out of the way, Tyr," he warned.

"Let her go," Tyr said, and Ivar reached for him then, reaching to push him away, reaching to grip at him with his strong and terrible fingers.

"No!" Enid shouted, but something knocked Ivar's hand wide and soon Enid was staring at eyes just as dark, just as cold and dangerous, but eyes that were glaring up at Ivar.

"Let her go," Freya said, and Ivar went still, but then Enid could still feel him tremble and shake before something in him snapped and she felt him fall in on himself as he pulled away.

"Out of the way, Freya," he whispered.

"Let her go," Freya said again, and he did, so suddenly Enid's knees fell out from under her and she knew that she would hit the ground, no strength left in her to stand and fight, but Freya caught her, holding her in her arms and giving her a moment before she took another step in front of Enid, and then Tyr was with her, baring his chest and glaring up at his father.

It was a long moment before anyone spoke again, a moment that was thick and heavy, where the air seemed to come alive and crackle like lightning, but then Ivar tutted, then he pushed past the children and Enid and slammed the door shut behind him.