[Upon first glance, the goddess in front of you has a very unassuming presence. Soft brown hair pulled up in a messy bun, wavy tendrils falling around her face and throat. Glasses that take up half of her face sit on a medium sized nose dusted with freckles. She is wearing what can only be described as comfy clothes for a deity who lives amongst the stars. She gives every impression of an ordinary, down-to-earth, academic. Her energy is soft, unpretentious. At times you almost forget that she is there. Her voice, as she begins to speak, is a little above a whisper like she is talking out loud to herself but doesn’t realize there are others around her trying to listen.]

My brother, Dellingr, likes to say that we are alike in personalities. We aren’t truly. We are more like opposites but with similar talents. He loves the big, flashy displays before my nephew rides out. If I think about it though, in the moments when he offers his most magnificent array of colors he has just welcomed home our cousin Nótt and taken her into his arms. I suspect that those exhibitions are really a product of their embrace. He is always so overjoyed to see her. I’m not even sure she sees all the lights as once her eyes are laid upon him there is nothing else. I envy them that.

My domain are those brief moments right before Nótt rides out. I do my best to weave an impressive display but as Sunna and Dagr are arriving it doesn’t last as long as my brother’s does before turning into deep hues of blue, purple, and black. Where to begin? Based on the stories you have heard thus far it is probably pretty obvious that I am not what one would call “outgoing.” Look at the fact my name has been mostly forgotten. It has happened to so many that they are choosing to just return to the cosmic energy that exists as one rather than continue the fight to be seen and heard. I often longed for that as well in those early days but my duties are not complete.

My brothers have described our hall and the journeys undertaken. What they have forgotten is the explanation as to why the stays are so short. Most people put Miðgarð at the center of all things, whether in physicality or belief. But Miðgarð is only one out of thousands and thousands of worlds. The journeys that Máni and Sunna make are not limited to just the one. They journey across the cosmos, along a multitude of paths, touching so many worlds and souls. This is why their visits to our hall are so short. Add to that idea time is not linear, it fails to move in the exact same way for each realm or world and a clearer picture of what faces them begins to be seen. For Miðgarð, a single day has 24 hours and to mark their current calendular years, 365.25 days. One day in Miðgarð is hundreds in Åsgarð and Vanaheim. Thousands of years can pass upon Bifrost during that time. Contrarily, in one day of Ljóttalfheim, a hundred years pass on Miðgarð. And don’t get me started on Miðgarð A & B.

You aren’t interested in how time passes through the realms though, are you? [sighs] Back to my story. So why has ‘my’ name been forgotten when my siblings and father have not? Why is my name described as ‘dull’ or ‘gloomy’? I’m not sure to be honest. I am quiet, I know. I have my moments with sunsets but nothing as flashy as our cousin, Norðrljós (Nordlys). She handles what humans call the Northern Lights or the Aurora Borealis. She has been rather showy lately. I should ask her about that.

———

[Máni interjects]

This is part of the reason her name isn’t spoken much anymore. She tends to trail off or wander in her conversation and get lost in her own thoughts. It has led to others walking away as she ruminates leaving her alone and as history has shown, forgotten. Skúma is kind, gentle, quiet, and rather shy. She is also very intelligent and observant when she focuses. My sweet one has a beautiful heart of gold, you just have to get your head out of your ass and notice.

———

Where was I? Oh, my story. As you may have surmised my father is Mundilfaeri. To bring you up to speed that makes Sunna, Máni, and Dellingr my siblings. Dagr is my nephew, Nótt is my cousin as is Nordlys. I have a lot more cousins, including the more famous ones but they can tell their own stories. Now, how to start? Hold on.

(Skúma steps away and brings back a huge volume bound in a dark covering and dotted with stardust.)

I like to keep things organized so I write them down. Easier to remember that way. You didn’t honestly think that the only way all the multitude of universal incarnations and endings have occurred was only stored in our minds, did you? (smiles knowingly) We keep records of all the worlds, stars, realms, dimensions, living beings, etc from every single beginning and ending of the cosmos. Every volume is written and preserved in our library. On top of that no matter how many times the universe restarts the library endures and holds the knowledge of one incarnation to another. Dellingr writes all the tales from Nótt, Máni, and Aurvenðil after their travels. I take notes from Sunna and Dagr. My brother has lovely penmanship. Every word is painstakingly written to fit exactly on the lines. He sticks strictly to the script in order to spend more time with his love. I, however, like to make notes of my own observations and write them in the margins, across the top and bottoms of the pages, and even stick random pages in when a new idea surfaces. I always think that I will get back to it and clean it up but then I get carried away by the next story. It tends to frustrate my father when he is reviewing things as he isn’t sure which pieces are the actual tales or my thoughts on the tales. How does the knowledge from ALL the incarnations continue from one cosmos to another? (with a twinkle in her eye) Magic.

My story. Well, it began just like my brothers’ and sister. We were raised together by loving parents if not a little distracted. It wasn’t long before the others paired off to experience the new places being created. They found our cousins and had adventures together but I was always drawn to the library. Once I began to recognize the patterns into words, languages, and thoughts I was hooked. I spent every waking moment pouring through what appeared to be endless volumes of information and stories. I was rarely happier than when I began a new text. My father encouraged me to get lost in the tombs, I’m not sure why. The only thing that could bring me out of those tombs was to hear the laugh of my brother, Máni.

Máni. Tall, fair-haired, he radiated a soft glow that invited you to gaze at him. Grey-blue eyes sparkle as he teases. His voice was a deep, lyrical timbre that reminds me of being wrapped in chocolate. Of course, it wasn’t chocolate then. More like a burrow that one snuggles into for comfort. If I wasn’t reading I was watching Máni. My heart would race once I knew he was home and I would quickly stop whatever I was doing to make sure I didn’t miss a single moment with him. He tolerated me and my incessant questions with a smile. While the others would eventually tire of me and drift away he always made sure I didn’t have anything else to ask first. I was head over heels in love. The feeling was not reciprocated, and I knew that, but the heart wants what it wants to quote humans. So I basked in whatever attention I could get from him and spent the rest of my time buried in books. When my father decided to meddle in the affairs of timekeeping I was heartbroken to learn that my beloved Máni would not be returning home again.

We were all shocked when the news came. Our father had called us all together, even me, to share his plans. As he described the roles I will admit that the only one I really noticed was when he said Máni would live in the heavens away from the worlds until the next ending. I didn’t know that I had cried out until everyone turned my direction in surprise. Máni looked at me a little longer than he usually did but said nothing as he turned back towards our father. I wanted to run. I wanted to scream and throw things. I don’t know if my father realized the depths of my affection for my brother or not. I doubt he would have thought it of importance at the time even if he did. I managed to hold it together until everyone began to go their separate ways. Dellingr and Nótt held each other tightly with their son, Dagr close to their sides. The devastation on their faces at the impending separation was more than I could bear. Sunna and Máni had walked away together, presumably to go and tell her mate of their father’s decree. I was alone. My father watched me for a few moments while I tried to figure out what to do and how to either stop it or tell Máni how I felt. I don’t like change. It’s harsh and makes my skin crawl. I finally approached my father and asked him why. One word. He looked at me hard and then took a deep breath.

“We are part of all things, creations and endings. The cosmos moves and changes with every incarnation. You know this through all the books you bury yourself in. We can no more ignore our role in the movement of the events than anyone else. To control time is to be able to control events and shape them in a way that allows for learning and growing and building.”

“But nowhere in the books is time controlled.”

“It is, and it isn’t. We cannot allow the upstarts to be the ones to move time. It would be devastating to the cosmos as a whole. We must take on the role as we have every incarnation.”

With that, my father walked away. I turned slowly, aimlessly, towards the library. It was my haven, my sanctuary. I looked at the rows upon rows of tombs and for the first time had no desire to pick one up. Máni would be gone in a matter of moments. How could I have been so blind? At the clearing of a throat I spun around.

———

[Máni picks up the tale]

When our father gave us the news there was a cry from behind us. Turning around I saw Skúma, her disheveled look present for all to see, slightly weaving. Her cheeks were more pale than usual, her eyes wide in shock. Something about her face and stance kept me from looking away. I could feel in my bones her distress. My little sister was always quiet and studious. The library was the perfect place for her. She was not a hunter or runner. She found her adventures in dusty books on the past. I always looked forward to returning home after explorations as I knew of all my siblings and parent, Skúma would want every detail. It was comforting to know she would be there, waiting, and always excited to see me. I was so blind.

I have already described the ways that Vanir are related to one another and that my family was not one that mated with siblings. That is true. Sunna and I share that physical and energy bond that makes us truly related. Dellingr too. But not Skúma. For some reason Skúma might have some of our physical connections but she does not share the energetic ones. This might explain the differences in appearance and personalities. To this day I don’t understand why Dellingr thinks they are alike. While not complete opposites they are close. Skúma was the baby of the family. Born shortly after Dellingr she didn’t really resemble any of us in coloring. It was thought by those outside our clan that maybe Mundilfaeri wasn’t her father but he claimed her as his own daughter without hesitation from the moment of her birth. We didn’t question it. I reiterate these facts because as I had said our family didn’t marry/mate with siblings. I grew into my own believing Skúma was my sister and so never looked at her as anything but. Until the day I was due to leave.

I couldn’t get her distress out of my mind. Having long relegated her as a little sister, I had not noticed that she was a grown woman in her own right and had been for a long time. I went to the library and watched her for a moment. She stood there, looking lost as she stared at the books. It was obvious that she had become unmoored from her safe shores. Not wanting to scare her I cleared my throat. When she turned around I felt as if I had been punched hard. There she was, my little Skúma, tears of grief pouring down her face, unable to speak in her sorrow. I was absolutely gutted. It had not occurred to me that she would be so affected by the news our father had brought. I slowly stepped forward and took her glasses off. I don’t know why she wears them. As far as I know she has perfect eyesight. It had been so long since I had really looked in her eyes that I found myself lost. Large lavender-grey eyes stared back, wet with tears. Filled with pain, grief, and dear gods love. I knew that look as I had seen it mirrored on Dellingr’s face whenever he looked at Nótt and on Sunna’s when she spoke of her mate. Skúma loved me, and not a sibling love. I stroked her cheek in wonder. And then I did something stupid. I panicked. Skúma was my sister. Our family didn’t do that. I didn’t even speak. I just turned around and got out of there as quickly as I could. I ran towards my destiny thinking if I got far enough away the feelings becoming unleashed in me would dissipate and Skúma would find someone else. I thought I knew what was best and I didn’t even think about how she would take it. I was really stupid.

—————

[Skúma]

When Máni removed my glasses I stood perfectly still. My heart was pounding wondering if he could see, if he would see. And then he did. His eyes reflected surprise and the merest glimmer of a returned love. His hand lifted to my cheek and I thought that he might finally kiss me. All my dreams and feelings were right there waiting to be realized. And then I saw the panic set in. As quickly as he had noticed me he looked shattered. Yanking his hand from my face he turned around without a word and ran from the library.

For a few moments I sat on the floor replaying the look of shock and then panic as he ran from my feelings. Neither of us had said a word during the whole encounter and yet I felt as if we had argued for hours. After a time I gathered myself together, a plan forming in my mind. I went to my father and told him that I wanted to be included in the division of time. He asked me if I was certain as there was no going back. I told him I was and he then agreed. Setting me in charge of dusk/sunset I would be the one responsible for ending the day. As I was leaving to make ready my father gave me one last warning,

“Skúma. You are my daughter. Your mother and I were glad to have you. But you are not a true sibling to your brothers and sister. We never spoke of it as it didn’t matter to either of us. However, the direction in which your heart lays may not see a difference. Be warned. He may never accept you. It’s a lonely life even when chosen.”

With those words ringing in my ears I left for my new home in the heavens.

I have already explained that time moves differently. For many thousands of years I diligently did my job of ending the day and recording the tales of my sister and nephew. My father had arranged for me to be able to access the library from my hall so I was not without my beloved books. I would only see Máni in passing as Nótt would run into my brother’s arms whispering their love and quickly leaving for their rooms. When Máni adopted Hjúki and Bil he seemed to soften a little. He stopped avoiding me and actually started smiling again. I was happy for him. If caring for those two little ones brought him joy who was I to resent it? I continued to keep to myself and love him from afar. Yes, it was lonely but at least I would be able to see him every now and then. I didn’t want anyone else and of all the Vanes I could have fallen for, Máni was the most tolerant when it came to my personality quirks. I accepted my life and managed to find joy in what I was doing.

——————–

[Máni]

Time passed as I made my journeys. I adopted Hjúki and Bil and we seemed to establish a pattern. The first time I saw Skúma after I had ran I was ashamed of my behavior. I avoided her in hopes that things would die down. I was furious with our father for putting her there when she was obviously in her element back home. One of the few times I have seen my father since mounting the skies we argued for what seemed like hours. Finally, my asked me if I was so angry because she wasn’t happy or was it because I was the one with the problem. I hate when he is right. Afterwards I started paying attention to whether she was unhappy. I thought if I could prove it then maybe she could be released and the stress I imagined we were both feeling would be gone. Turns out that she had found her place there and was content. It was me with the problem. She didn’t even look stressed. I began to wonder if she had stopped loving me. I thought I would be happy with that knowledge but instead I found myself irritated that she could get over me that easily. I can be quite arrogant in my own hubris.

I have no idea how much time had passed when in a talk with my brother over mead the subject of Skúma arose. I bitterly spoke about how she was probably better off back at our father’s hall and Dellingr laughed out loud. Nótt, sitting with him just shook her head and smiled. I glared at them and my brother stunned me with his next words.

“When are going to get down off your pedestal and tell her you love her?”

“She is my sister.”

Dellingr sat up incredulously and said, “Are you telling me you don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Skúma is not our true sister. Father and mother didn’t create her. She was born a mere two months after me. That doesn’t happen. They suspected that, like Audhumla, she came into being through the ether. Yes, she resembles me as a twin but that is just superficial.”

I was stunned. I had not known. While I was trying to process this information, Nótt said:

“Dell, what makes you think Skúma looks like you? Aside from a little violet in her eyes she doesn’t look like ANY of you.”

They bickered a bit, half-hearted really. Dellingr truly doesn’t see it. He may have known she wasn’t a full Vanir sibling but he was absolutely oblivious to the differences in appearance. I hadn’t really thought about it myself to be honest. What I failed to understand was why I never picked up on the difference in energy patterns. As someone who impacts tides, bodies, minds, and seasons on so many different worlds you would think it would have been obvious to me. I am such an idiot.

I didn’t go to her immediately. After all, she had most likely gotten over me, right? I needed to process this new information. I also felt that she deserved an apology after all this time.

————-

[Skúma]

Nótt eventually told me what happened. I had no idea my brother hadn’t known. I also didn’t realize that the whole reason Máni had stayed away was due to that supposed connection. I thought he had been repulsed at the idea of me as a whole and avoided me. I almost went to him but I decided to just let him figure things out. As far as I knew he had never had the same feelings for me so embarrassing myself again was not something I was keen to do. So much time had passed that I had convinced myself that the love in his eyes was just my wishful thinking. My feelings had never dimmed but I was still hurt that he had run at the mere idea. I decided to go about my business and just leave well enough alone.

After a few weeks had passed I started to notice little gifts left by my desk. A random stone that when I touched it glowed brightly, the odd flower from different worlds, I even found some blue-green moss that when you boiled it produced a lovely green ink to write in my books. Each little gift was a sweet and useful token. I cherished all of them. They were something that only I would truly love and filled some niche in my life. I suspected they were from Máni as a way to say he was sorry for how he had acted but as I never caught him eventually I gave up that idea.

Several years passed in this fashion. Instead of avoiding me he began to smile when he would see me and sometimes wave. Remember that their journeys were long ones and they didn’t often have much time to rest and visit in the hall. I was busy putting accounts in order most of my waking hours. Keeping chronicles was very time consuming and I enjoyed what I felt was a calling.

I was in one of the back rooms verifying some data on a nebula when I heard someone clear their throat. I had been reaching behind some shelves so I was a bit startled. When I turned there he was, Máni.

———–

[Máni]

I had been slowly working up the courage to talk to Skúma. I played with the right words during my travels going over each one to determine if it would be adequate. I had gone over my apology so many times that Hjúki and Bil were sick of hearing which version I thought was better. Each journey I would see if there was some little trinket or bauble I could bring to her. I had been leaving little gifts for a while at that point but she never said a word. I finally couldn’t take it anymore, I had to know if she still had any feelings for me aside from contempt. I found her in a back room digging through shelving that obviously needed some work. I cleared my throat to get her attention.

She was adorable. At the sound of my voice she had turned around and promptly plopped onto the floor. Covered head to toe in dust, her glasses askew, eyes slightly glazed, and a small tear in the oversized garment she used for climbing around the old books. She was gorgeous. I suddenly couldn’t remember any of the versions I had tirelessly practiced of my apology. I just stared. As the seconds passed by she started to blush and then scrambled to pull herself together. By the time I found my voice she had already begun to apologize for keeping me waiting, her appearance, the dust, and everything in between. I think she would have apologized for being born if it had occurred to her in that moment. I felt like such a heel. I tried to interrupt her but she was talking so fast and flitting around the room trying to tidy up. Once she started moving she didn’t meet my eyes at all. I finally managed to speak her name.

“Skúma.”

She froze in place but still wouldn’t look at me. I took in her appearance again and noticed that her hands were shaking and her lips had started to tremble just a little. Was I upsetting her? Should I leave? I tried again.

“Skúma, will you please look at me? I wish to speak with you.”

————-

[Skúma]

Oh. My. Gods. I was a complete disaster, as usual. I couldn’t believe he was there and talking to me. As he stared at me I became so nervous there was no way I was able to sit still. If he were going to finally tell me he could never love me I didn’t want to be on the floor. Then I couldn’t bear the idea of hearing those words at all so I talked. I tend to talk really fast when I am nervous or upset. I opened my mouth and words just fell out. When I realized that most of them were apologies for dumb things I didn’t dare look at him. It was all so humiliating.

“Skúma, will you please look at me? I wish to speak with you.”

Of course he did. I remembered then that his visits were extremely short and if I didn’t hear him now it might be a much longer span before I saw him again. Mortified that I was wasting his time I lifted my head and eyes to look at him straight on. I had to remind myself to breathe, he was so magnificent to look at. Taking on his role in the heavens had given him a slight silver glow on top of his natural essence that only made him look stronger and more handsome. Alright, Skúma, time to listen.

————-

[Máni]

When she finally raised her eyes to mine I found myself frustrated. Her glasses were reflecting the candlelight in the room keeping me from seeing those lovely orbs. Were they the same color that I remembered? I leaned forward and took the glasses off her face. I should have asked first. It was rude, and I know how to respect women. But she didn’t chastise me. Instead she blinked and quietly waited. They were still the same warm shade of lavender-grey. I must have sighed out loud because her brow furrowed and she asked if something was wrong. Not wanting to distress her more I opened my mouth to recite the speech I had carefully practiced.

“I’m sorry.”

What? I spent hours going over every detail. How was it that I couldn’t get out more than those two words? The look of confusion on her face most likely mirrored my own. She blinked a few times as she processed my very profound statement and in the next moment I was extremely glad that her emotions tend to be clearly written on her face because the look of grief and sad acceptance made me realize that my apology was taken for all the wrong reasons. I am such an idiot. I saw the tears welling and watched as she grappled with herself. Nothing was coming to my mind to stop the trainwreck rapidly approaching me. Finally, some saving grace took pity and the words began to tumble out.

“Skúma, I have treated you poorly and I’m sorry. I should have spoken to you before now but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me. I was childish and stupid. I should not have run from you all those years ago.”

“oh…”

The surprise in her voice with that one word gave me courage to keep going.

“You know that our family doesn’t follow the same traditions as some of the other Vanes. I believed that you were my full sister so thinking of you as anything but that seemed impossible. When I saw in your eyes the love you had for me I was humbled and terrified. Terrified because I sensed in myself that I had those feelings for you as well. I had felt that way for far longer than I knew.”

She gasped, eyes wide.

“I was afraid that if I shared that with you our family would never understand. We would become outcasts and I couldn’t do that to you. So I ran. I know now I should have faced both of our feelings and talked to you. Dell told me about your birth and that you are not, in fact, our true sibling. I almost came to you then but after everything that happened I felt maybe your feelings had lessened over time. I didn’t want you to think that I only came to you because of what Dell said. Our father also apparently knew of your feelings and mine but not once did he correct my thinking. One day I will ask him why.

This isn’t an excuse, only an explanation. I thought maybe if I wooed you in small ways you might be willing to give me another chance…”

“That was you leaving me gifts?”

“Yes. I wasn’t sure if you liked them or not but I thought of you during my journeys and as I came across little items I thought you might like I wanted you to have them. Do you think there is a chance, even a small one, that we could try…?”

No sooner had I said the word ‘try’ I found myself with the most amazingly perfect woman in my arms her lips pressed to mine.

I won’t go into a lot of detail. This is her story, after all.

——–

[Skúma]

We didn’t have much time that day. He was due to leave for his next round in just a few moments. We sat amongst the stacks of books and cleared the air between us, hand in hand. He asked my permission to officially court me and I managed a somewhat calm, yes.

We spent the next several months and years learning about each other and sharing everything we could. Hjúki and Bil seemed quite happy with our relationship and they have become very dear to my heart.

When the wolves were set on Sunna and Máni I was terrified. Every ounce of peace I had built for myself was gone in an instant. Dellingr and I both watched the skies for hours desperately seeking word or sight every single journey. Though Nótt is not the one being chased, as soon as she began trying to hide Máni she had made herself a target. Dagr too was a person of interest as he paved the way for Sunna to ride. Our family was in constant danger and the stress remains high even now. This is our life. I welcome home my sister and nephew with rays of color to guide their tired steeds. I wait for Máni to return that I might fall into his arms in relief that he has made it back one more time. He is my lover, my friend, my family, and my mate. Though we have no children of our own neither of us are lessened by it. To see the glow in his eyes when he says my name makes me tremble with joy. I will wait for him for as long as time moves knowing that even as others have forgotten me, he won’t.