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“I don’t understand,” he took off his glasses, fiddling with them for a minute before putting them back on. “What do you mean Magnus is coming here? He’s dead. I went to his funeral. Months ago.”
His daughter bit her lip, “Dad, did you ever meet Magnus’ dad? Like did Aunt Natalie ever bring him over for dinner or anything?”
He frowned, trying to think back, “Maybe once. I think he was at either Thanksgiving or Christmas. I was still doing my PhD at the time though. My memory gets fuzzy around anything that wasn’t to do with my studies.” Or Athena.
But that was a lifetime ago. And God- Gods knew that everything had changed far too much for him to ever go back. Not that he would want to give up so much of what had changed. His life, his job, his wife and his children. He eyed Annabeth. Maybe he had some regrets. He could have done better in a lot of ways.
She frowned at him as if she knew what, or whom, he was thinking about, “Anyway, did you ever bring Mom around when he was also there?”
“Who, Magnus?”
“No,” she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Magnus’ dad.”
He thought about it for a minute, fiddling around with the hairs at the side of his beard which wouldn’t lie down properly, “Yes. There was a Thanksgiving I brought your mother to dinner. And he was there too.” He peered back in his mind’s eye, trying to picture the night. The slight awkwardness between Natalie’s boyfriend and Athena. The weird familiarity he knew he hadn’t imagined, even though both of them played it off. He had, at the time, assumed they were exes, or maybe colleagues of a kind but- “Is Magnus’ father your brother?”
She coughed, “What?”
“Well,” he said, explaining their dynamic, as far as an almost twenty year memory would allow, particularly when one had not been paying attention at all. “And they’re both blond.”
She stared at him, “No. Frey is not my brother. Magnus is- Frey is a god.”
“Oh,” he said, relaxing a little. “Wait, what? Of what?”
“Norse god of… like agriculture? And something about horses,” she shrugged. “A few things. Wealth, which is ironic, considering- but he’s a god, dad. Magnus is like me.”
“But he’s dead,” he said. “That wasn’t a fake body.”
“No,” she said. “It wasn’t. The body was… real. He’s not… alive. But he’s not dead.”
“He’s a zombie?”
“No,” she shook her head again. “I mean… I don’t think so. There’s not a connection between them, I believe. He’s… I forget the word, but he’s undead? An immortal warrior of Odin. He’s in Valhalla.”
“So Norse gods are…” he trailed off, his mind going a million miles a second.
“Real too,” she confirmed. “Anyway, I invited him over for dinner, if that’s okay with you and Helen.”
“Of course,” he blinked. “Of course, he can come. He’s more than welcome to stay. Um, is there anything he needs to eat… do you know?”
“Like what?”
He shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets, like an overconfident student in a seminar who’d only scanned half the reading and understood half of it, “Like brains?”
She snorted, “No. He eats normal food. Quite likes falafel though, if you want suggestions on what to make.”
“I’ll order some in then.”
“So, Magnus,” he wiped the tahini off the side of his mouth. “How have you been?”
Magnus, about halfway through demolishing his third wrap in ten minutes, paused, his food halfway to his mouth, “Um. Good? Things have been good?”
“And your new… living space? Is it nice?” Annabeth had told him that the legendary afterlife for warriors who died in the line of combat and got picked up by a Valkyrie - a tall order, which he wasn’t 100% sure how his nephew had actually fulfilled, although he must have - was a hotel in Boston.
“Yeah,” he said, a little cagily. “I already knew the area, so settling in wasn’t too bad, I suppose. Most of the people there aren’t from there, so I guess I’m glad. Plus, it’s close to the Chase Space so I can be near either of them, depending.”
The Chase Space was yet another thing Frederick had only heard of, although he could actually go to that one at least. Maybe he should, when he next had time off. He had had no real fondness for his childhood home. It had been dark and oppressive at the time, and he had no doubt that Randolph had made it worse in the years he had spent rotting away in there after Caroline, Aubrey, and Emma.
That was another regret he would ponder on for a long time. Probably for the rest of his life. Maybe he should have reached out. He had tried, both him and Natalie, on that last Thanksgiving especially, and he had been as much of an unreasonable bastard as he had been the day he was born. But he was Frederick’s brother too. And now there was no chance he could ever talk to him again.
Annabeth had said it was an accident. She said that Magnus had been there. She had said that Randolph had been there when Magnus had died. Frederick didn’t ask any more questions.
“Do you like lego?” Matthew asked from down the table. His food was half on his face, and half in his open mouth. His mother gave him a warning look and pointed at her mouth. He grumbled and swallowed, “Sorry. Do you like lego, Magnus? Are you really our cousin?”
“I liked it when I was younger,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. It was so Natalie that it made him break out of the moment. He blinked, and it was Magnus again. His sixteen year old nephew, who would never be another age again. Who might be every age possible before the world ended. “Haven’t had the chance to build anything recently.”
“Do you want to help me after dinner?” he asked.
Bobby butted in, his face much cleaner than his brother’s, “What about me?”
“I’d be happy to help you both,” Magnus said, a small smile on his face. “Annabeth?”
She sighed, “Sure, I’ll join. Sounds fun.”
Frederick looked at Helen. He guessed that it was them on dishes tonight. Again.