mythopoeics

She couldn't sleep, as much as she wished for it. It was the combined thoughts of having to deal with Zeus, a wedding that would be by no means truly joyful and seeing the child she had to give up. Her head would ache constantly until everyone left.

Unless Zeus attempts to take you back to his home. And her time to be by herself was running out. She knew that the Svargans would be in Glastheim within a couple of days. Sigyn would have to be be prepared and someone, she supposed, would have to speak to her about expectations. Not that Angrboda didn't believe Sigyn knew what to expect: pressure. Forget about sex (one just had to witness dogs mating to get the idea) but the real worry was the constant pressure and demands. Her advice (of course it would fall to her, she was a queen) would be more in ways to cope.

Never drink in public or you'll find reason to overdo it and then it'll be a disaster. Take naps in places no one can find you. Get pregnant right away so you have an excuse for everything you don't want to do. Don't bother faking it, it'll just give you more trouble. Find a spot somewhere to look at, somewhere just right so it doesn't appear you aren't paying attention but so you can also drift in and out. You see, you don't really have to pay much attention as it doesn't matter. You're a foreign bride just like me but, in you case, you're also Svargan. The people will not warm to you whether you off input or not. Darling, we're pieces in a puzzle one way or another.

And, the truth is, if your king is like mine, you may be replaced for a new model one day. So trap him between those thighs and milk him dry, daughter-that-is-not-mine. Because you may as well get some nice memories out of all this. And perhaps you might be able to convince him to keep you longer.

It would be near morning when she would pass out, wondering when Zeus would replace her and if he had someone new in mind already. She wouldn't go silently if it came to it. She would bring the wrath of the gods on him if he tried.

I have decided that I like weddings.

I almost forgot just what I didn't like about Glastheim but it's pretty damned obvious with every step north.

God, how do you survive the cold? I feel like bring out every fur and cloak I might have in that overly large chest of mine.

I always thought wedding season was in the summer.

[Filter: General Gawain/visible to Iseult and Uriel]
Requesting permission to become part of the retinue escorting my wife and her brother to Glastheim, please.

The roads to Glastheim are busy, it seems. I'm fortunate to have reached here ahead of the rush. I have set myself up in rooms near the Palace and if anyone wants to have a portrait painted, I do take appointments for sittings.

Most of you are, of course, aware of my work. I've painted in all five kingdoms and, yes, that eight-foot tall portrait of Zeus is my work, too and I'm already enjoying my return to Glastheim.

[filter; metatron]

Brotherbrotherbrother. Are you coming? Because if you are, you'd best wrap up warm.

( better know that i don't and i won't ever stop cause you know i gotta win everyday. )