Rixie was waiting to greet Taron and Fleita when the Galatea landed at Rabtes Station. While it was no more than a ten-minute trip for Rixie, it was not one she usually made, nor was it one Taron would have typically made for her. It’s not that they weren’t friends; it’s just that it was the same ten-minute trip back to Tayas Mons for Taron, and if either was waiting to talk to the other about something, they would usually let them get settled with their family first.

Rixie was not there so much because she needed to greet Taron as that she felt the need to apologize. He’d ended up on Sininentavas for three days waiting on her mother, who had asked Fleita and him to wait a couple days after ferrying her back so he could bring something back to Rixie. Of course, Taron had said he didn’t have anything in particular to do (and to be fair, the main things he had to do were either Pryvani-related – and Pryvani had immediately agreed to the extension – or 67^th-related – and their next meeting was scheduled for two weeks hence).

Still, Rixie generally didn’t want anyone inconvenienced on her behalf, and so she was wearing a rather embarrassed smile as Fleita and Taron disembarked.

“I’m sorry,” Rixie said, as Fleita shouldered her pack. Taron had one on his back, and drug one behind, while carrying something heavy-looking under his right arm.

“Sorry? Why?” Taron said, grinning. “It was nice to just hang out with my daughter for a bit. I actually think Fleita enjoyed it too.”

“I’d never been to Sininentavas. It’s pretty,” Fleita said. “Dad said you were born there?”

“I was,” Rixie said. She was about to add something that would dissuade Fleita from further inquiries, but Taron did it for her.

“All right, I’m going to take the gear back home with Rixie,” he said. “You close out the log-book, arrange for the cargo to be offloaded, and sign it in.”

“Dad, that could take an hour!”

“Thet Pariari will wait a whole hour to see you. You want to be a pilot? This is the part that isn’t fun.”

Fleita sighed, but said, “I suppose that lets me sign as lead for the trip.”

“It does, and that gets you that much closer,” Taron said. “Plus, I’ve signed ships in a few million times, I’ve earned a break. I’ll see you back home. Rix?”

They walked into a lift, which would carry them to the titan-sized tram between the station and the mountain. “You know that the Galatea doesn’t have to be signed in,” Rixie said.

“Technically true. Next time Rabtes audits check-ins of Pryvani’s fleet will be the first. But first, once she gets her license, she won’t be flying the Galatea, she’ll be flying a Jona-class, or maybe a refurbished Kursis III if she’s lucky. They aren’t gonna care who her dad knows. And second, figured it would keep her from asking you too much about your mom.”

Rixie sighed heavily. “And what about you?”

Taron grinned wider. “I’m not asking anything, I figured it out when you all were on your way here. And I haven’t told anyone about Iron Maiden, I’ll keep this secret too. Obviously.”

“Right,” Rixie said. Then, quietly, she added, “Seriously, Taron, I….”

“Seriously,” Taron said, with a nod. “How many extremely serious secrets have we all kept? This goes on the list. Doesn’t mean I won’t try to call you ‘Your Highness’ sometimes.”

“In Jotnar, it’s ‘burisrykato – well-born,’ and that’s…hilarious, is what it is,” Rixie said. “Well-born enough to be an orphan.”

“Well,” Taron said, as the lift stopped, “at least in the end you ended up with a mom who’s pretty interesting. And I’m not kidding when I said it was nice just to have an excuse to hang out with Fleita. You know how it is when they’re about to head out into the universe, you remember Ryan being that age.”

“Too well,” Rixie said, leading them out of the lift to the tram, which was at present just a single car. “Can I carry anything for you?” she asked.

“Well, this is yours,” Taron said, handing the item under his arm to her. It was heavy, but not overly so; it had been carefully wrapped in a blue-green cloth, so that the whole of the package appeared to form a trapezoid.

Rixie took it from him just outside the tram, and stopped dead in her tracks as he loaded in. “You coming?”

“Is this…is this what you were waiting for?” she asked, holding it gingerly.

“Yeah, Vwokhu said it would be hard to ship, and knowing what it is, she’s right. Besides, I know a little bit about Jotnar culture, and when she asked how she could get it back to you…well, how could I do anything but volunteer to stay? She said it would be done within the week, after all.”

Rixie took a few steps, and lowered herself carefully into a seat. The doors closed, and the tram set off automatically.

With slightly tremorous hands, she found the place where the fabric ended, and began unwinding the blue-green cloth of Clade Niethur, to expose a silvery metal handle, wrapped in leather at its base.

Clade Niethur was her mother’s house, such as it was; Clade Niethur accepts all Jotunn who wish to join it; it is a clan for those who do not have a noble family (or less-noble but still-organized clan) to claim. That does not mean it is not a true or important clan; Clade Niethur is a clan for all Jotunn, after all, and so in its own way, that makes it the most important clan of all.

Rixie finished unwrapping the handle, and moved on to the head, carefully unwinding the cloth. She tried to remember how it was wound; she would need to remember, should she need to wrap this again. She freed the head, and continued on to the end of the fabric, which wound around two small metal blocks, together about the size of a deck of titan playing cards. Both were marked by a single, bloody thumbprint.

She looked at them carefully, eyes watering, then wrapped them back in the fabric. Setting it aside, she finally grabbed the handle in her left hand, and raised her gift in front of her.

It was an axe, and no mere decorative one. It had been forged (not printed – not for this) in a single go, head and handle at once. Rixie carefully weighed it; it was perfectly balanced. The head was somehow heavy and solid while the handle felt light, though not insubstantial. The handle bore inscriptions in Jotnar, one stretching below the blade, and one on the opposite side. Below the blade was her name – her given name, Hyrikken Skamøld. On the opposite side….

“’Irakhsita njedit,’” Rixie half-said, half-sobbed.

“What…my translator didn’t catch that,” Taron said.

“It means ‘beloved daughter,’” Rixie said. She wiped her eyes. “I never thought…I knew about them, but….”

“Your mother said she was sorry that it was late, she would have had it for you when you adopted Ryan if she’d known you then.”

Rixie was careful not to run her finger over the blade. Not right now. She knew that many axes gifted this way were decorative, meant as a symbol rather than the real thing. But her mother had given her a true Jotnar Axe, one that would fell trees and dig furrows and slaughter animals and defend against attackers if she needed it to. It was no mere symbol. It was a tool and a weapon first, and a symbol only after the fact.

Her mother knew her well, even if she barely knew her.

* * *

In Jotnarherath, there are axes, and there are Axes.

There is, of course, a tool called an axe (well, to be precise, it is called an aksju. You may note that this sounds a great deal like the Archavian akus, the German Axt, and the Old Norse ex, because axes have been around a very long time, and they are such a useful and ubiquitous tool that their names have stayed the same even as languages drifted apart and species have literally moved to different worlds).

One might buy an axe, or get one as a hand-me-down. They’re useful tools, after all. But it is considered incredibly rude to gift someone else an axe on any occasion but the birth of their first child, and then, you should only do so if you are their parent or guardian.

Traditionally, when they became parents, Jotnar men were given axes by their fathers, and Jotnar women were given axes by their mothers. (Well, originally, the gift to Jotnar men was a rifle, but firearms were eventually banned in cities, and while there was a brief period where some tried to make swords a thing, eventually it was settled that both parents would be gifted axes.)

Whether rifle or axe, the point of the gift was that, as Jotunn, the parents were now responsible for building a homestead. Whether in the northern climes of Savarna or the colonial worlds of Jotnarherath, that was not always as simple as just putting your kid in daycare and getting a job. No, often the act of building a homestead was literal, and involved clearing land and forest to build a cabin, plowing soil to plant a field, slaughtering animals for meat.

Of course, in the 22^nd Imperial Century, this was not usually the case (though that did not mean it was never the case – Jotunn are not supposed to seek easy lives, at least according to their cultural mythos). But while the axe had become symbolic, it was still a potent symbol. It signified true adulthood, and its gifting was treated as a mark that one had ended their carefree life, and begun a life of consequence.

Of course, as with all traditions, this tradition was often altered and reshuffled as parents saw fit; many Jotunn had received axes upon stating their decision that they would not have children, as this was a truly adult decision. And many Jotnar fathers had given their daughters axes, and many Jotnar mothers had given them to their sons.

Sen. Skorsjad Aljansen, heir to the House of Aljansen, pondered all of this as he looked at the axe laying on the table in front of him, upon its rainbow-hued satin wrap.

It was Ljied’s axe, delivered to him to be given to Skor’s son, Riggu.

Skor had one too, of course; his was very detailed and intricate, encrusted in jewels and gold. His axe was not meant to be used as an axe; it was meant to be decorative, and to show the wealth and power of the House of Aljansen. Ljied’s was different; duller, with no gold, no rubies. Just the sigil of the House of Umbas, surrounded by some designwork etched into the head. It was double-bladed, with a spike at the top.

Skor picked it up, and felt its weight; he remembered thinking it somewhat plain when Lady Ástríður Umbas had gifted it to her, but he understood now why she had. It was simple, and elegant, and deadly.

Two blocks of metal, the same type as the blade, lay on the fabric. On each were two long-dried bloody thumbprints. One belonged to Ástríður Umbas, Ljied’s mother.

The other belonged to Ljied.

If Ljied had borne a daughter, her axe would have been forged with this metal mixed in, just as Ljied’s blade had contained metal from the axe of Ástríður. Now, this metal was destined to remain with the axe.

Skor nodded. He picked up one of the two blocks, and carefully set it aside. He then re-wrapped the axe, and walked over to the wall where his own axe hung, with a wrap of checkerboard red and black tied to it.

He untied the wrap, and opened it. There were two blocks of metal in there, of course, with the bloody thumbprints of him and his father. They were destined to be used in Riggu’s axe, when he became a father.

Skor carefully placed the dull metal of Ljied’s axe next to the bright silvers of his. And then he tied the wrap back up.

He hadn’t been a good husband to Ljied, and he could come up with many excuses for why he hadn’t. But she had been a good mother to his son. And his son deserved to carry a piece of his mother forward. He would forge Riggu’s axe out of both his and Ljied’s metals. And he would choose a design that was less ostentation. Yes, by then Riggu may be a prince, the son of a Dronung. But that was all-the-more reason not to brag.

He carried Ljied’s axe to the basement storeroom for safekeeping. There was no place to display it; what space there was would be occupied by another axe soon enough.

* * *

“It is….”

Aud searched for the term to describe it, but it didn’t come out immediately. Vikdasa sighed.

“I recognize that it is not covered entirely in diamonds. But that is not the point of an axe,” Vikdasa said.

“I will not have to clear the land,” Aud said, looking over the simple double-bladed axe that her mother had selected.

Well…to call it simple would be to sell it quite short. It was in truth quite a beautiful axe, a red wood handle with a woven leather grip, and a butt that had been covered in rose gold leaf. Her name – her current name, Audara Aljansen, was inscribed on one side of the axe, and Noble Daughter inscribed on the other.

Vikdasa sighed again. “You know…you are my daughter, Aud, and so I can say things to you that others cannot. And so let me say this, Ms. Aljansen – I have truly failed you, because you are behaving like a spoiled brat.”

Aud’s silence was extended by that; she was sitting in her mother’s living room, the living room of the house where she’d grown up, where she’d lived before she knew she was a princess royal of Jutuneim.

Her mother had hidden that from her. And there were times, when conscience tugged at the hem of her skirt, when Aud knew why her mother had done so.

“You have not failed me, mother,” Aud said. “I am…I just worry, that if I bring this home…it is well-crafted, but Skor’s is so…so….”

“Your husband won’t reject it,” Vikdasa said. “He wrecked two marriages for you, he isn’t going to worry about the axe you brought home. And your mother-in-law can think what she thinks, you did not marry her. And you are giving her a grandchild, and Skor a child.”

“I do wonder,” Aud said, “what Princess Tellervo gave to Swipul.”

“I don’t,” Vikdasa said. “Tellervo is not your mother, and I am truly sorry you are burdened with a commoner for half of your genes. But Otna and the Dronung both know that makes you no less worthy than anyone else.”

“Rajenlif hid me,” Vikdasa said. “I certainly was not as worthy in her eyes as Swipul or Antero.”

“Rajenlif never viewed you as anything less than you are,” Vikdasa said.

“Then why am I not Princess Audara, mother?”

Vikdasa took a deep breath, and ran a hand through her short hair. “Rajenlif would have had you be a princess royal, had I but asked.”

“Sure,” Aud said.

“She offered as much, when you were just an infant. She knew your father would not marry me, but she was willing to have you proclaimed a princess nevertheless, despite the embarrassment. I said no.”

Aud stared in shock for what felt like the entirety of her life. “You…you’re joking.”

“I wouldn’t joke about such a thing,” Vikdasa said. “When Rajenlif found out about you, she came to see us. She asked me what I wanted. Said that she and the House of Throden would endure the mockery if I wanted you to be known as a princess. I told her I did not.”

The blood drained from Aud’s face. “Why…why in Otna’s name….”

“Your father, back then, was a reckless and stupid man. He had everything he could ever want…and he valued none of it. Including you, and me.”

“I could have been a princess! Officially!” Aud shouted. “Not some embarrassing secret, not a charity case, a real princess!”

“You could have been a drunk!” Vikdasa shouted back. “You could have been a layabout, like your father was! Oh, Kullervo has pulled it together – he’s a much better man now. But it took losing much of his liberty to do so. Rajenlif cut him off after you were born, forced him to move back to the palace. She ordered him with her, that same night she met you and me. Told him she was going to cut him off if he didn’t come with. I don’t know how much of what he has today is from the royal family, but much of it isn’t, and I know that’s because Rajenlif made him go out and earn it. I did not want that fate for you. I wanted more.”

“Do you know how hard it was….”

“You were a normal child, Aud! You were far from the only child of a single mother. And only for a while – Nyjariki raised you as if you were their own daughter, you know that. They still love you, too. You had the gift of not knowing that no matter what you did, it would be fine. You had to go out and fight for it. And now you are the wife of the future Lord Aljansen. You are soon to be a mother. You have a grand life ahead of you.”

Aud said nothing at first; she simply began re-wrapping the axe. Finally, when it was done, she spoke.

“I do,” Aud said. “More grand than you know.”

* * *

“I am sorry,” Vwokhu said, “that I did not have it ready before Lexie was born; that was my hope, but Seln Nielenn forged Namø’s axe, and given that it was already decades late….”

“It’s perfect,” Rixe said to the woman on the viewscreen. “And…well, I had been wondering how to ask you for some metal for Ryan’s axe…which is why it is not forged yet, Thyllia…but I didn’t know how to do so without sounding demanding….”

Vwokhu sighed, and wiped away a tear. “You would not have sounded demanding, Riksa. And I am very glad that you and Alex are going to give Ryan an axe. And as Lexie is somewhat larger than her father…may I recommend that you give two axes? That will give you enough metal for him.”

“Honestly,” Rixie said, looking toward her daughter-in-law, “As long as it’s all right with her sister…I would like Alex to give an axe to Ryan, and Thyllia, I would like to have an axe forged for you.”

Pryvani had been standing at the bar in Alex and Rixie’s kitchen, drinking a glass of kapavi as she drank in the scene, but at this, she smiled wide. “I would be honored if you would bestow an axe upon my sister,” she said. “As I know Thyllia would be.”

Thyllia looked down at her baby daughter, who was, as usual, wide awake and looking at everything. “I just hope nobody gets mad about me not being Jotnar.”

“Oh, but you are,” Rixie said. “You married my son, and he’s Jotnar; true, he’s adopted, but so what? The rules of the House of Throden ColVanos are complex, but he is certainly welcome in Clade Niethur, the clade of his grandmother.”

“Two humans have already been admitted,” Vwokhu agreed. “And the precedent was set a couple centuries ago when a couple adopted a Ler. And of course, as the wife of a member of Clade Niethur, you are also a member of our large and open clade. The bad news is that everyone else is; it is hardly an exclusive club.”

“I’m in enough exclusive clubs,” Thyllia said. “This family, for one. I…I just….”

“Honestly, the only bad part of you being Jotnar,” Alex said, “is that you and Ryan got hitched so quickly that I couldn’t object that he wasn’t wearing a leather skirt. Because I would’ve. I had to.”

Vwokhu clicked her tongue. “You’re silly. Akwe still complains that I made him wear that. You’d think I had never worn skirts around him. Besides, a handsome man looks handsome in a kaedo.”

“It’s true, they do,” Rixie said, walking to the bar on which her husband sat.

“So do I get a axe?” Asteria asked from her seat on the sofa.

“Not yet,” Rixie said. “You get an axe when you’re grown up, and have a baby of your own, or you decide for sure that you don’t want to be a mommy. But when you’re grown up enough, I’ll give you an axe, just like my…just like my mom gave me. And if you have kids, you will give axes to them.”

“That’s a million years from now,” Asteria grumbled.

“Yeah, it is,” Alex said, and Rixie noticed there was just the slightest bit of pain as he said it. But he didn’t dwell on it, and instead added, “but that’s part of being a grown-up; it takes a long time. Your mommy just made it today!”

Rixie smiled at him, and shook her head. “I’m not sure I’m a grown-up yet.”

“I’m not sure I’m a grown-up yet,” Vwokhu added. “I’m not sure anyone ever is. But if anyone is…I’m glad I was able to tell your mommy she is, Starry. I…love you very much, Riksa.”

“I love you too, mom,” Rixie said. “I’ll call you later in the week.”

“Please do. And all of you…stay well,” Vwokhu said, as she closed the call.

Rixie planted a gentle kiss on Alex’s head, and he smiled, but jerked his head in Thyllia’s direction; they’d talked about this earlier, and Alex was a good enough grandfather that he wouldn’t forget.

“Thyllia,” Rixie said, “I’ve seen you yawn at least three times in the last five minutes.”

“I’m not bored, really,” Thyllia said.

“I know you aren’t. How much sleep did Lexie let you get last night?”

“I got fourteen hours,” Thyllia said. “I’ll be okay.”

“How much of that was consecutive?”

“I mean…three or four here, three or…uh…four there. I’m fine.”

“You are not,” Alex said. “Starry was just like this. Never wanted to sleep. Still doesn’t.”

“There’s stuff!” Asteria complained.

“Exactly! Stuff!” Rixie agreed. “I got a good night’s sleep last night, and Alex is going to get a nap in and then holoproject when I’m tired, so dear, go home and get at least twelve straight hours. And don’t set an alarm, if it hits twenty, maybe we’ll ask Pryvani for help.”

“And she might even sleep!” Alex added, cheerfully. “Though neither of us are counting on it.”

“Are you sure?” Thyllia asked, with a desperation that suggested she was very much hoping they were.

“Don’t ever ask that, just take the help and go,” Rixie said. “That’s what we always did when you took Ryan.”

“All right, it’s a deal,” Thyllia said. “But really…if she becomes a problem….”

“Pryvani, would you please….” Alex said.

“Of course. Come on, sis. And the axe is lovely, Rixie. Truly,” she added, hugging her friend tight.

Thyllia and Pryvani walked out of Rixie and Alex’s apartment, and down the short hallway to Pryvani’s home and Thyllia and Ryan’s apartment.

“I’ll help you get into bed. And Thyllia, darling, I’ve told you so many times, I’ve been through this with three children, if you need help with my niece I’m literally just through the door.”

“I know, I just…you know…want to do it.”

“You want to do it on your own, because like everyone else here, you’re stubborn,” Pryvani said. “But you’re not on your own. And everyone on this mountain owes you babysitting time, and several years’ worth. While Ryan is away…everyone will help.”

“I know. I do,” Thyllia said quietly, as she opened the door to her apartment. “I can get into bed, I don’t need you to change me.”

“I know darling, but I want to make sure you get to bed, and don’t try to do work instead.”

Thyllia sighed, and headed dutifully toward her bedroom, which was quite disheveled by her standards. At the door, she paused. “Pryvani, can I ask you a question?”

“Always,” Pryvani said.

“When you became my guardian…kept me from going to the Hoplites…was it because if I was sent off with the Hoplites I might grow up bitter?”

“I took you because you were my sister,” Pryvani said.

“That is a very you answer, but…I mean, I know you do love me. I do. I just wanted to know….”

Pryvani sighed. “There is often an element of calculation in the things I do. And I will not deny that the thought crossed my mind that letting you go to the Hoplites could turn you into an enemy. And you, like me, were the daughter of Syon.”

“Yeah,” Thyllia said. “I can see why you’d take me then, because Syon’s daughter…I could have been like her. I don’t mind, really. I know you love me now, whatever the reason you took me, and I’m glad I was able….”

“Darling, you didn’t let me finish,” Pryvani said, walking over to her sister. “That did cross my mind, but it was not the reason I took you in. When I first heard I had a sister, I was horrified. Horrified that our mother was doing to you what she had done to me. And knowing what our mother would have done to you…the cruelness, the indifference…..”

Pryvani wiped her eyes. “The Hoplites would have taken you in and done what they could. But…your mother-in-law, my friend, Rixie – she has been desperate for love her whole life. And the fates have, fortunately, delivered it to her, in amounts so great that most people would be overwhelmed. But Rixie takes every last drop of it, because being an orphan left a hole in her spirit. And she did not start life with someone digging a hole deeper into her soul, day by day.”

Pryvani hugged Thyllia tight. “I couldn’t send you to the Hoplites. I couldn’t send you off alone. I knew what our mother had done to you. And I didn’t know if I could make up for it, but I had to try. Because you were my sister, and even though I’d never met you, I loved you. And there have been days I doubted whether I was a good enough guardian for you. But I have never regretted that decision. Not once.”

Thyllia hugged her sister tightly, and said, “I…it would have been okay if I just won you over with my charm, you know.”

Pryvani laughed. “You did that too.”

Thyllia wiped her eyes. “I know, it’s silly…I’m a mom now….”

“Vwokhu is right. Nobody is ever grown up. Not really. And that’s a good thing.”

Thyllia nodded, and took a deep breath. “Thank you. For everything.”

Pryvani smiled. “You are most welcome.”

Thyllia slept well that night, and while Rixie and Alex and Pryvani were a bit sleepy when she woke thirty hours later, none of them minded a bit.