Three days.

Three days was all the Thryms had before Karl resumed his einherjar duties, three days until another member of their family was under imminent threat from the war. It was his father's summons that made the worry deep inside Ivan, the constant worry reserved for Blader, lift its head and fill him with anxiety and fear.

After over a year of Blader being an einherjar, Ivan had grown used to the worry, had shelved it away inside himself where it maintained a constant, dull presence, only pricking him at night before sleep claimed him. But now, it throbbed through his body, like it had during the first days after Blader shipped out and during his time in the Reenactment, enhanced by his fear for his father.

After Loqé left, Karl had gathered the family together and spoken with them concerning the summons. "We have three days left," he had said. "Then I will be shipping out for Domstall. The grain will have been harvested – Ivan, it is up to you to sell it and finish preparing the farm for winter. Hilda, Freyja, I want the two of you to step up and help your mother and Ivan around the house and farm. You'll both have more chores to do, and around the farm, listen to Ivan like you would have listened to me." Karl had looked to Ivan then. "You run the farm now. Your mother and I have discussed it, Ivan, and we both agree that this farm was always meant to go to you, anyway. You are in charge of the farm; however, I do ask that you still consult with your mother over the various decisions. It is not yours yet."

"Why did they call you back?" Hilda had asked, frustration clear in her voice. "Can the einherjar even do that? I thought retirement was the end."

"Not in wartime," Karl had said heavily. "With the Reenactment exposed as faulty and ended, training new recruits has made a mandatory draft harder. They'll do that later, if they still need soldiers, but summoning back retired soldiers, still in the age range of service, meets their needs better. All we need is a refresher and basic training course and we're fit to serve in training positions and other such places so einherjar like Blader can fight the war."

In the following days, Ivan felt like he was on autopilot as they gathered the sheaves of wheat and brought them to the barn for threshing, storing the grain once they had finished. Mechanically, he aided in finishing the harvest, knowing that each sunset marked down another day until his father would have to report in. The Racarls and Loqé, who returned for the following two days, respected the Thryms' tense silence as they worked.

Loqé had started taking her winged horse, Haraun, to the Thryms, leaving her in one of their empty pastures for the day. It had been a while since she had ridden Haraun when visiting the Thryms, despite the fact that Freyja always loved to see the horse. Loqé seemed to enjoy walking to the farm, and Ivan liked it when she did so, for it had meant he could walk her back into Njordesden after her visit. But now she rode Haraun back and Ivan only watched her go, missing the times when he had been able to walk with her, enjoying her company.

They finished with the main harvest in two days, leaving the last day for the Thryms to spend together as a family before Karl deployed. After doing the chores, Gunil and Hilda packed a picnic lunch and they headed down to the grove by the stream to eat lunch.

Ivan glanced around the grove as the family splashed across the stream. He had so many memories here, some recent and some not. Last year, he and Blader would spend Soldagr afternoons sparring and dueling back here, readying Blader for his einherjar assessment. Also last year, he, Karl, Blader, and Loqé had fought off a pack of wolves that had trapped Hilda in a tree. That had been the first time he had met the Valkyrie, when she had suddenly appeared as if sent by the gods, vaulted through the air as if it was nothing, and taken out a wolf, not caring at all that her arm had just been bitten. Spattered with dark blood and dressed in black armor, Loqé in that moment had seemed like no one else in the entire world to Ivan.

A year later, and she still wasn't.

But it was here, as children, that Ivan, Blader, and Hilda would play tag with Jorid and Audsen Racarl, when Hrodar and Freyja had been too little to join in. Ivan had been able to catch anybody, at any time, due to him being the fastest. Then Blader one day had outrun him and it had been him they would have to fear when playing tag. Ivan and Blader had climbed these trees, too, trying to see who could go the highest and conquer the riskiest branches.

Ivan sighed as Hilda set down the basket, Freyja spreading an old blanket out on the ground. He felt Blader's absence like a knife in his stomach. He had grown so used to his brother being gone, it took the summons to remind him of how much he missed and worried about Blader.

But no matter how many memories filled the grove, there was nothing they could do to make this last day together anything more than bittersweet. They talked of the good harvest, of old memories, but the past could not hold back the looming future, large and dark and all-consuming.

As the afternoon drew to a close, Karl rose and beckoned for Ivan to follow him. Silently, the two walked away from Gunil, Hilda, and Freyja, until they stood by the creek, out of earshot of the others.

"Ivan," Karl began, his voice quiet. "I've seen the way you look at that Valkyrie."

Ivan started, glancing at his father in surprise. "What?"

"Drengr Loqé," Karl said, looking at Ivan. "You have feelings for her, do you not?"

Ivan saw no need to lie. "I do," he answered in a low voice, wary. Where is this going?

"Get rid of them, boy," Karl told him gruffly. He gave him a sharp look as Ivan started. "No, I mean it! Valkyries can't love, Ivan. It goes against her oath to Asgard. If she falls in love with you, it means a death sentence to her. So get rid of your feelings. They're pointless, anyway."

Ivan stared down at the water, which gurgled softly as it flowed past them. He had always known that the odds of he and Loqé being anything more than friends was a long shot, due to their differences. A farmer had no place in a Valkyrie's life, and a Valkyrie had no place in a farmer's life. Their lives were too different. But for feelings of love to be absolutely forbidden? For Loqé to be unable to feel anything at all for him, even if it was a long shot to begin with? Did her Valkyrie oath really mandate death if she fell in love with him?

Ivan felt like what little was left of his world, what little remained after Magni's summons for his father, had just crumbled into ash to be blown away in the wind.

"You understand me?" Karl asked softly.

"I understand," Ivan replied, fighting to keep his voice steady.

"If you ever need help on the farm, hire Hrodar," Karl said, as if the previous conversation had never happened. Ivan listened as if from a distance, still rattled and hurt. "If Audsen has time after working in the forge, hire him, too. Make sure, no matter what happens, that Hilda and Freyja stay in school. I don't care if you have to sell off some of the land or animals, don't let them drop out."

Ivan nodded. He knew his father didn't want Hilda or Freyja tied to farm life when they were older, like he and Gunil had been, or like Ivan was now. He also knew that education was important to his parents, and it had broke both their hearts when first Ivan had dropped out to help on the farm and then when Blader had done it to serve in the einherjar.

The only difference was Blader could easily make a career out of the einherjar, riding on his previous victories, his incredible skill, and the family name. Ivan had none of that when it came to farming, nothing beside the skill and years of hard work.

"I'll make sure they stay in school," he promised.

"I'm sorry," Karl said after several moments of silence passed, glancing at him. "I never wanted this for you. I didn't even want it for myself. I just...couldn't live in the einherjar anymore, and Njordesden was the furthest place from it all that remained within Hraustliga's rule."

Ivan glanced at his father in surprise. He had never heard the story of why the Thryms had ended up in Njordesden when their entire family line was from the district of Domstall and when Gunil's family hailed from the coast. But almost his entire life had been spent in Njordesden – it had always been home. And that led Ivan to the questions he had always longed to ask but never had. But he might never have a chance again, and although he loathed that thought, he couldn't shake it.

"Why don't you talk about Grandfather Thrym?" Ivan asked suddenly. "Why don't you talk about the war, or anything concerning the past? Why didn't I know you led the first Mjolnir Squad, or that you fought at Folr Wood? Why couldn't I know any of this?"

Karl's expression grew grim. "War isn't something I like to talk about, Ivan. It's bloody and chaotic and...." He shook his head. "You saw it in Blader, when he was home after the Reenactment. He talked very briefly about what actually happened to him. You see things in war, Ivan, and they aren't things you like to remember, or want to tell other people about. And the last war, during Dyr Gunar's Wolf Reign...I was done, after that. I couldn't take it any more, and I didn't want the career I'd prepared my entire life for. So I went as far away as I could get."

"Did you ever want one of us to serve?" Ivan asked quietly.

"Yes and no," Karl replied, looking down. "The Thryms have been serving in the einherjar for five generations now, including Blader. I didn't want the legacy to end with me. But...your mother was dead set against any of you serving. So it was not encouraged. Did I want the Thrym legacy to continue? Yes, I did. But did I want any of you to see the things I saw? No, I didn't." He sighed. "I am proud of my time in the einherjar, but after Folr Wood, I was done. The war was over and Magni pardoned us of the rest of our time in the einherjar. I didn't need to stay. I had seen enough of war to last a lifetime and beyond. I didn't want any more of it."

"You were proud to serve and yet you didn't want any more of it," Ivan said, furrowing his brow. "I am not trying to argue, Father, I just want to understand."

"You can't understand, Ivan," Karl said heavily. "You don't know what it's like, to fight for your country and the gods in the hopes of keeping your family safer, in the hopes of ending something, and then realizing nothing ever ends. The war doesn't end for people like me and your brother, Ivan. It can't end. It'll continue until there's a second Ragnarok. There will always be something to fight against, and then all the wars blend together into one endless fight."

"If that is the case, then how can you want the Thrym legacy to continue?" Ivan asked. "If it was my children, I would shield them from that with my life."

"You think I didn't?" Karl asked, his voice sharp. "Why do you think we live in Njordesden, not in our family home of Domstall? You, Blader, and your sisters grew up outside the military culture. Any choice would be yours to make, not that of those around you." He sighed again. "Except, despite everything, Blader was pressured into making the choice anyway."

[----]

Ivan rose the following morning with the sky still dark. He, Hilda, and Karl were going to do the chores early before they all had a final breakfast together.

All night long, Ivan had passed in and out of sleep, dwelling on his father's words from yesterday. Karl had spoken so little about his time in the einherjar that Ivan couldn't bear to let him leave without asking. He had always waited, as if maybe he would speak about it when he was ready, but the summons wasn't going to wait for that. So Ivan had had to ask.

He did his chores automatically, feeding the animals and letting the cattle out into the holding pen in preparation of letting them loose to do their grazing once the sun had risen and the threat of wolves had passed. Sometimes, he heard their howls at night, the sound of close by danger. Sig and Fjorsen, the horses, were tacked up in preparation of the ride into town, their girths left loose. There was silence as they worked, none of them wanting to be the one to mention how this might be their last time doing all the chores together.

Quietly, Ivan, Karl, and Hilda headed back up to the house, where Gunil and Freyja were finishing up making breakfast. Ivan remembered Blader's last breakfast, how only the two of them and their parents were up for it. Freyja and Hilda had only woken up to say goodbye.

Then, like now, only Ivan would be accompanying Karl into Njordesden for the departure.

They leave, and I stay. How many of my family will I watch leave until only I am left on the farm?

Both Karl and Gunil strove to keep up conversation during breakfast, and Ivan shook off his silence as he realized that his parents didn't want their last breakfast together for the near future – he prayed there would be another – to be fearfully quiet. About halfway through the meal, Freyja began to join in the conversation and even Hilda talked a little.

But then breakfast was over and Karl had to leave.

Dressed in a grey traveling tunic, his formal uniform packed in one of the two bags at his feet, Karl hugged Hilda. "Be good," he told her. "Help your mother, and help Ivan. Keep up your good work with the weaving internship."

Hilda nodded, her face stony as Karl turned to Freyja, embracing his youngest child. "You do what you're told," he instructed her. "Listen to your mother, Ivan, and Hilda, and help them out where you can."

"Yes, Papa," Freyja said, wiping at her eyes.

"Don't cry," Karl said, giving her a smile. "I'll be back soon. Blader and I will both be back soon."

Freyja nodded, hugging him again, and then Karl straightened and embraced Gunil. "I love you," Ivan heard him murmur.

"Just come back to us," Gunil replied. "I couldn't stand to lose you, Karl."

Karl kissed her gently, then turned to Ivan, who held out the sword and shield that, for over a year, had hung by the front door. The weapons had been dug out of storage when Blader had enlisted, so that he could practice sparring with Ivan. Ever since then, they had been kept by the door in case of wolf attack or some other emergency, and Ivan had taken them out to the grove a couple times to practicue using them. The sword hilt had always felt so strange in his hand, the tool of a trade that was not for him.

Karl looked at the weapons, slowly taking them from Ivan's hands. He strapped the sword and shield together and slung them over his back. "Let's go, son."

He and Ivan stepped outside, Gunil, Freyja, and Hilda following after them. Karl stood with them as Ivan hurried to the barn, tightening the girths on Fjorsen and Sig before leading them over to the house. He couldn't help being reminded of the time last year when he had ridden down to the Transriot station with Blader for his departure to Vigrid.

Mounting up, Ivan waited as Karl hugged his wife and daughters once more before swinging up on Sig. "I'll see you again," he promised, yet his expression was grim.

"Papa," Freyja spoke up suddenly. "Can I come? I...I want to come to the station, with you and Ivan."

Karl's features softened. "Of course, Freyja." Hilda stepped forward and helped boost Freyja up to sit in front of Karl, gripping Sig's mane, before standing back beside Gunil.

The ride into Njordesden was silent. They kept both the sturdy horses at a steady trot as the sky began to lighten, foreshadowing the sunrise. Ivan felt a weight pressing over his chest as they rode. Here he was, again, going to see a member of his family off while knowing he would forever remain behind. Ivan didn't even want the life his brother and now his father were riding off to, but he couldn't help but envy the fact that they were leaving just the same.

As they entered Njordesden and approached the Transriot station, Ivan was surprised to see Loqé standing on the platform alongside another Valkyrie, as if they were waiting. It was like a punch in the stomach, to see her following his conversation with his father.

She will never be able to love you.

Karl and Ivan halted the horses and dismounted, Ivan tying both horses to the rail as Karl helped Freyja slide down before they stepped up onto the platform.

"Karl Thrym." The Valkyrie standing next to Loqé tilted her head slightly, her green eyes and expression hard. Her braided hair was twisted back behind her head, the braided strands cascading down her neck, the dark streaked with silver. "I never thought we'd see the day you'd go to war again."

Karl stopped, his eyes narrowing. "Eirnn. I'd hoped I'd never see the day I had to talk to you again."

It was the absence of a title that stood out the most to Ivan. Karl Thrym, who insisted on using Loqé's Valkyrie title even when she had allowed the use of her first name, now left the title off when addressing the head Valkyrie of Njordesden.

Eirnn laughed harshly. "What a world this is."

Loqé glanced from Eirnn to Karl, her brow furrowing. "I wasn't aware you two had met."

Neither was I, Ivan reflected. Freyja looked confused, glancing from Loqé to Eirnn to Karl to Ivan, but she knew when to hold her tongue.

"We knew each other from the last war," Eirnn stated dismissively, holding Karl's gaze. "You'll be happy to hear, Thrym, that I will not be accompanying you."

"Good," Karl spat. "You're not sane enough to be anywhere near the einherjar on a battlefield, Valkyrie."

Ivan was struck by how the general title, used to describe Loqé so many times in respect, could be used to convey such vehemence.

Eirnn's eyes blazed angrily. "And you think you're much better? Thrym's son, ha! The great Aetlun Thrym's legacy wasn't strong enough to stand after Folr Wood – he withered and hid away far, far away from home."

Shocked into silence, Ivan and Loqé exchanged a glance, each unsure what was going on. Freyja reached up and took Ivan's hand, her face pale and frightened at the angry exchange between their father and the head Valkyrie.

Karl looked like he was about to respond, then snapped his mouth shut, glaring at Eirnn. He turned to Loqé as the Transriot approached the platform. "Drengr, do you have the documents I need?"

Loqé stepped forward warily. "Yes, Mr. Thrym, I do." She handed him a file. "Once you reach Domstall, report to Drengr Samra, and she will finish processing your file."

Karl nodded. "Thank you, Drengr." He turned then to Freyja and Ivan, giving Freyja another hug before embracing Ivan. "Take care of them," he whispered. "I love you, son."

"I love you, too, Papa," Ivan replied quietly. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many different words clamoring to spill out, but he couldn't find a way to organize them into coherent sentences.

Karl then turned, nodded to Loqé, ignored Eirnn, and stepped onto the waiting Transriot, disappearing for a moment. He reappeared sitting in a seat by the window, his grim gaze trained on his eldest and his youngest.

"Karl Thrym goes off to war," Eirnn said, her expression unreadable. "Not as the son, this time, but as the father."

Ivan looked over at her, biting his tongue. He wanted to snap at the Valkyrie, tell her she had no right to say such things about his father. But this wasn't the time or the place. His father's service record proved itself, without needing Ivan to speak for it.

The Transriot pulled out of the station and Ivan, Freyja, and Loqé all waved. Karl waved back, his eyes trained on his son and daughter until they could no longer see him anymore.

"My father is a good soldier," Freyja spoke up suddenly, her expression defiant. She was still holding Ivan's hand as she glared at the tall Valkyrie.

"Yes, he is," Eirnn agreed, startling Ivan. "Karl Thrym was one of the best." Her tone did not match up with her words – there was no sarcasm in her voice, only a bitter anger. "But don't you know what happens to the best? They are doomed to die. It is the way."

"He won't die," Freyja declared, but Ivan could see tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

Eirnn just looked at her. "That's what they all say."

Ivan turned, tugging gently at Freyja. He didn't want to stand here and listen to this anymore, didn't want to think about his father or Blader dying in battle. They walked toward the platform's edge, Ivan stepping down the stairs while Freyja, releasing his hand, jumped gracefully off the platform. Ivan glanced back to see Eirnn's eyes narrow suddenly, before she turned and left the platform without a word.

Loqé glanced after her, her lips twisted into a grimace, before she looked at Ivan and Freyja. Slowly, she walked toward them, her expression softening as she walked down the stairs to stand before Ivan. "I'm sorry," she said. "Master Eirnn...I don't know what to say for her."

"Don't say anything, then," Ivan said quietly, his heart throbbing as if in pain. He felt like there was a hole somewhere in his chest as he looked at the young Valkyrie, dressed in her typical grey tunic, her dark hair braided down her back. He had always known his feelings were far-fetched, but to know for sure they were hopeless stung like nothing he'd ever felt before. "You didn't do anything."

Loqé glanced in the directon the Transriot had gone, biting her lip. "I didn't know they knew each other."

"Neither did I," Ivan said grimly, following her gaze. "I guess they met during the war."

"And then both ended up here afterwards," Loqé finished, frowning.

And the Thryms aren't even from Njordesden in the first place.

Ivan glanced down at Freyja before looking back to Loqé. "I suppose we should get back," he said. Regret pricked his heart but he ignored it. For the Valkyrie to care for him meant a death sentence for her, and he did not want to be the cause of any pain felt by Loqé.

Perhaps I do love her, I don't know, but I know I care for her enough not to want her to love me back.

Perhaps it's best I stay away from her. Just in case.

Loqé nodded. "Of course, yes. I suppose I'll see you around."

"Come over soon," Freyja encouraged. "Bring Haraun."

Loqé smiled. "Yes, I will bring Haraun again." She glanced at Ivan, who tilted his head slightly. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she wouldn't come by until he told her it was okay. The Valkyrie wanted to give the Thryms time after Karl's departure before intruding.

You never intrude, Ivan wanted to tell her, but stamped down on the sentiment. "Come on, Freyja," he said instead, and turned away, helping Freyja mount up onto Sig before easily swinging onto Fjorsen, turning the horse's head away from the platform. Although he didn't look directly at her, he could see Loqé still standing beside the platform, watching them leave, and it almost seemed like she looked a little confused.

But that might have just been Ivan's imagination.

[----]

After untacking the horses, brushing them down, and letting them out into the pasture, Freyja headed up to the house to join Gunil and Hilda working in the garden. Ivan, needing several moments to collect his thoughts, decided to walk down to the stream.

I will give myself a few moments to think of Loqé before I forget these feelings forever.

As he walked down the hill, the grass rustling against his boots, Ivan felt in his pocket for his handkerchief. Pulling it out, he unfolded it to see the dried blue flower encased inside, worn but intact.

Last year, when Blader had left for Vigrid, Ivan had gone to see him off. Since Loqé had been going with him, Freyja had given Blader a flower for the Valkyrie, which he had proceeded to give to her at the platform. But the arrival of the Transriot had blown the flower out of her hands and into the street. As the Transriot had left, Ivan had picked up the flower, wrapping it in his handkerchief and taking it home to preserve it. The Valkyrie who had accompanied Loqé to the platform had given him an odd look, but Ivan had ignored her.

Ever since, he had kept it, as a reminder of the girl who had captured his attention and his feelings.

Ivan frowned down at the flower as he stopped at the edge of the stream. Like his feelings, it had been carefully preserved despite the ravages of time, but like his feelings, it hadn't been supposed to last. It should have died, that day behind the Transriot, and so should have Ivan's affection for Loqé. Like the flower, his feelings had survived in a world without its roots, not realizing it was already dead and was just waiting to wither and fade.

"I'm sorry," Ivan said quietly. "I held on to something that never should have been there. I need to let go, to leave her behind. I don't want to, but I have no choice. She took an oath, and I took a jump that had no destination. It's my own fault if I fall. But I don't have to let her fall with me."

Carefully, Ivan picked the flower up out of the handkerchief, a hollow ache filling his chest. Many nights he had looked at this flower, thinking about the Valkyrie with eyes the color of sword steel. Many nights, while she fought in the war, he had hoped for her safety, prayed to the gods for her protection. And many nights he had dared to care for her, not knowing it was forbidden although he had known it was unlikely.

"Farewell," he whispered, dropping the flower into the stream. It floated on top of the water as it moved away from him, unaware that it would soon be crushed and destroyed by the current. So much like Ivan, who hadn't realized what caring for Loqé would mean in the end.