"What do you mean, you're leaving?"

Hilde's voice was full of horror, and Solveig paused in her frenzied packing long enough to glance at her mother. The older woman's face matched her tone, but Solveig was too preoccupied with her task to worry about her mother's feelings.

"I have to go, mum," she replied calmly, raking her eyes across her messy bedroom floor. Their flat - and her room - were small, so she didn't have to look far before she spotted her leather duster. Solveig snagged it out from beneath a pile of laundry and tossed it into her duffel bag, where it sat upon her chain mail tunic. Resolved to change on the way, the lifkyr strode past her mother and headed for the door.

Hilde managed to beat her to it, reminding Solveig of the speed her mother had once possessed. A thick piece of parchment bearing the sigil of a raven was clutched in Hilde's hand, and she thrust it before Solveig's eyes. "Have to," she hissed. "Because of this?"

Solveig grimaced, having forgotten in her hurry to tuck the letter where her mother could not find it. At her nod, Hilde's face crumpled.

"I warned you about getting mixed up in that nonsense!" the older woman cried. She raked a nervous hand through her silvered hair, the blonde that remained a perfect match to her daughter's. "But you don't have to go, Sol - no matter what they say!"

Having planned to escape without a confrontation, Solveig found herself trapped. She frowned, but dropped her duffel bag heavily onto the floor, accepting that this fight had been approaching for years.

"I want to go, mother," she replied, her voice steady. "Besides, how often do you get a request for help from the Allfather himself?"

"With any luck, never!" Hilde snapped, still keeping herself between Solveig and the door. "If he wants you to do something, then it's likely dangerous!" When her daughter failed to deny her words, Hilde shook her head. "I know you think you want this, Sol, but I forbid you to go."

Solveig snorted a laugh. "Forbid? Mother, I am a woman grown. I make my own choices." As soon as the words were out of her mouth she winced, wanting to take them back - but it was too late.

Her eyes wide, Hilde lunged for Solveig, pulling one arm of her tanktop down to reveal her back. At her sharp intake of breath Solveig reluctantly twisted, the mirror on the wall behind her allowing her to see her back.

Two feathered wings rested between her shoulder blades, the ink of the tattoo a deep, vibrant purple.

Hilde's voice was hoarse. "So much...you've used so much of your power..."

Solveig shrugged, flicking her long blonde hair over her shoulder to cover the tattoo. She met her mother's gaze and was shocked by how hollow it seemed. Hilde's voice was just as hollow as she asked, "Do you know what you will choose?"

Her daughter looked away, and a little of Hilde's ire returned. "You've been dodging this question since you were a girl, Solveig - well, now it's almost too late. This isn't a game, do you understand? This is the rest of your life!"

The chime of the clock startled them both, and Solveig shook her head. "I do not have time for this, mum. We can talk about it when I get back."
"If you get back, you mean." Hilde's voice was almost too quiet to hear. A plaintive note accompanied her next words: "Was it always so abhorrent - the thought of being like me?"

"No! Mum, no, of course not." The older woman blinked back tears as her daughter enveloped her in a huge. After a moment she returned the embrace, choking out a laugh as she did so. "You always were like your grandmother - she loved the fight too." With a heavy swallow she pulled away, gesturing for Solveig to wait.

The lifkyr shot a glance towards the door as her mother hurried into the living room, but decided to wait for her to return. It wasn't long before Hilde came back, and when she saw what her mother was carrying Solveig gasped.

She knew the sword as well as the back of her hand, but Solveig had never seen it removed from its place on the mantel before. "Gram," she murmured, then turned an awed glance on her mother.

Hilde looked to be steeling herself. "Take it," she said after a moment, and both women were surprised by how sure her voice sounded. "I'm sure my mother expected it to be used as more than a home decoration."

Solveig slowly reached for the hilt, then tentatively wrapped her hand around it. She knew it instantly, the same way she knew all weapons. Growing more confident, the lifkyr pulled the blade from its sheathe - and watched, amazed, as it burst into flame. The blazing fire seemed like an old friend as it warmed her, and Solveig found herself beaming.

"You're sure?" she asked, turning to her mother.

Hilde watched her with a strange mixture of sorrow and pride. When she answered, her voice was steady. "I am now."

Solveig continued to smile as she sheathed Gram, taking it from her mother and buckling the accompanying belt around her waist. No longer trying to get out before Hilde could stop her, Solveig took out her mail shirt and black duster, which had the advantage of hiding the sword. Hilde helped her into them without a word, and even managed a smile afterward.

"I love you," she said as she watched the woman her daughter had become.

"Love you too, mum." Solveig opened the door and let out a piercing whistle as the cold London air spilled into the flat. She cast a worried glance at the clock and prayed she wouldn't be late before stepping outside.

Hilde followed her, and the two waited together as the sound of hooves approached. Soon a six-legged horse appeared in the sky, galloping towards the duo and landing on the walkway before them. Solveig kissed her mother on the cheek and said a fond hello to Gunnar before mounting him. Hilde stepped forward as her daughter got situated, and stroked Gunnar on the nose. She leaned towards the faithful steed and whispered, "Bring her back to me."

Then Solveig touched her heels to Gunnar and they took to the sky. The horse was fast; Solveig barely had time to wave before they were out of sight.

Hilde stood alone in the cold London fog, a shawl wrapped around shoulders that shook from something other than the cold. Her hands clutched the shawl as she gazed skywards, and her voice shook as badly as the rest of her. "Do you hear me? Bring her back to me.."

After a few moments she stepped inside, and all was silent once more.