Bit of Terminology for you:

Psychopomp - a guide of souls to the place of the dead. Usually birds.

Arawn - In Gaelic/ Celtic mythology he was the god of death and the king of the underworld (probably the Greek equivalent of Hades). He is often seen with his red-eared hounds.

Earlier...

When Epona awoke the morning after the night's rowdy feasting, she dressed hurriedly and raced to the master's chamber in search of Aila who she feared had not yet returned home. Had Epona not been kept busy with menial duties required of her lowly status, she'd not have allowed Aila from her sight. But the circumstances, such as they were, had not afforded her a moment to herself and so Aila had slipped into the night unseen as a sullen and desponding Harald brooded quietly over many tankards of strong ale.

Arriving at the chamber, she found the bedding disturbed but emptied of its occupant. This relieved her somewhat for she knew that Harald had slept elsewhere so it could only have been Aila. That thought alone, that Harald had slept elsewhere, soured her temper, for she had seen him last with Brynja, but she brushed it aside and consoled herself that Aila had at least found her way home after all.

She watched the little slave girl, Olga, bustling about the room as if naught were amiss. Where was her mistress? Of Harald's whereabouts, however, she had no care.

"Where is Aila?" she asked the slave.

"The m-mistress left an hour ago to visit with her g-grandmother," the young girl replied warily.

Epona was well aware of the fact that she disconcerted the other slaves. The thought did not bring her any satisfaction, so she kept her contact with them brief, loathe to partake of the dissonance that existed between herself and the rest of the household save Aila. Had it not been for her friend, or the wee babe she carried come to that, she might have braved the hostile journey southward and escaped the lonely drudgeries of her existence long before now.

However, there was nothing for her even in the land of her birth. Her family and all those that she had known since childhood were gone — snuffed of life and delivered to the underworld by the barbarians she now served.

Epona watched as the slave girl's shoulders tensed under her scrutiny. With a disgruntled sigh, she withdrew, determined now to seek Aila out and assure herself of the younger woman's wellbeing. There was only four years separating her age from Aila's; it was right that she should feel such sisterly devotion to her. She knew her lady would not mind if she abandoned her chores for the morning in favor of satisfying herself that Aila was well.

With that reassurance uppermost in her thoughts, she lit out almost immediately, eyes scouring the meadow ahead and the trees beyond for any sign of the dark man she'd seen loitering about of late. Sometimes it was just he alone and at other times he was accompanied by a black wolf. Ofttimes he was absent altogether, yet she would still encounter the black wolf beside its brother, a larger beast with lesser shades of black flecking its coat.

No one seemed to spy him or his strange familiars, save her of course, and it disturbed her all the more for he would pass by with a mischievous, almost playful, wink before disappearing mysteriously. He made her increasingly uneasy and she wondered if he could be the god of the underworld himself, Arawn, accompanied by the black hound as he usually was.

The sound of of an axe splitting timber brought Epona up short and she shot her eyes to the left of the worn path, whence the noise had issued. It was followed shortly thereafter by the sound of hearty male laughter, reaching her from the other side of the storehouses and twisting her mouth down at the corners. She then quickened her pace, eager to be away; the thought of being discovered alone by those pigs curdled her stomach.

"Epona!" A woman's authoritative voice halted her suddenly and she turned to find Brynja emerging from the hall she had just left. "I have been looking for you," said she with a lazy smile.

This one unsettled her almost as much as the dark man; but not quite. There was nothing for it, she slowed her pace and allowed Brynja to catch up. A docile, obedient slave would have stopped altogether and cast subservient eyes to the ground as she awaited her orders. But she was no slave, no matter that these wretches thought otherwise. At length Brynja reached her side and matched her stride to Epona's.

Usually Epona could not abide the woman's presence for her smile was always so predatory and her bearing too intimidating. However, as she glanced up at the lady strolling beside her, she caught the troubled frown marring her perfect features. Brynja transferred her eyes from the pathway ahead and met Epona's questioning gaze with a rueful smile and shrug of her strong shoulders.

"I got tired of watching Harald and Orvar throw axes."

But why has she sought my company?

"What a pair we are," said Brynja with a jocund wink.

Epona said nothing in answer, but could not forbear the confusion puckering her brow. What did the woman want — she had rather be alone than suffer the idle chatter of one she neither respected nor liked, and that Brynja should pretend otherwise was vexing.

"I see you are perplexed by my manner, but why should that be. I have never treated you unfairly." Her tone was amiable enough but there was still a brittle quality to it that Brynja did not bother disguising. "We are both outlanders in a sense. Neither one of us belongs here." Brynja raised a single haughty brow at Epona when she did not immediately respond. "Do not you agree?"

"For my part, I no longer belong anywhere. I was stolen and my home destroyed. What is your tale of woe," Epona countered with a disgusted snort.

Brynja chuckled and studied her with amusement that was strangely imbued with admiration. "That is why I sought you out; your forthright attitude is refreshing."

"As to that. Why did you wish to speak with me?"

"Must I have a motive? Can I not just enjoy your company?" Brynja quirked a lip, but at noticing Epona's dubious frown she laughed outright. "Very well, I shall be honest too. I rather like our banter."

"And I like my solitude, so if you do not mind-"

"I do mind," said Brynja with a parlous smile. "I also admire your moxie, but do not for a moment believe me to be harmless. I see you have no need of wasted pleasantries, so I shall be blunt. I want something from you."

I thought as much. Epona held her tongue as Brynja's features became suddenly effaced of all the previous humor and good-will she had heretofore displayed.

"I want you to watch over my daughter."

Of all the things Brynja might have said, that request was not at all what Epona had expected. She stopped short, blinking her stunned surprise, for she was effectively startled from any semblance of calm that she had contrived to exhibit.

"Y-your daughter?!" she stammered. "But you have none!" Or does she? I do not know her at all well.

Brynja closed her eyes with a weary compression of her lips. "But I will do; soon enough."

Epona's eyes scanned her midriff, but there was naught there. No definitive color, and no sign of life energy. "But I cannot see..." How should she verbalize her ability? She had never spoken of it openly with these people.

Brynja nodded for them to continue walking. "I know what you are. My people would call you a völva; a seeress. You are powerful, and the other slaves — even the men and women you are forced to serve — all sense this about you. It is why you are avoided and friendless."

"I am not friendless," Epona countered, thinking of Aila, but her curiosity was piqued and so she listened as Brynja continued.

"You cannot see me with your third sight because I am not of this realm, but another — the otherworld."

Epona instantly surceased her steps again and faced her companion, shaking her head bemusedly. "Asgard? Vanaheim?" she scoffed flippantly.

"You are no benighted fool. You know who I am." She then took Epona's hand and moved her palm against her belly. "But my child is of this world and cannot go where I will soon return, even if I was of a mind to take her with me."

Epona ripped her hand away and squeezed her eyelids shut as she endeavored to process all that she had just heard. "I see only crows picking at corpses strewn across a battlefield?" She opened her eyes once more and beheld Brynja with a troubled gaze. "You say I know what you are, but I see only birds and you have no aura... What are you?!"

"I take the form of swans and ravens," Brynja corrected, smiling her approbation, "and I have already explained why you do not see my life-force colors. I knew you were gifted. I have chosen rightly for my daughter."

"No! I cannot watch over your daughter! I am only a slave and I have my own child to care for."

"Listen to me, Epona. I am a Valkyrie. I serve the gods and my time here has been protracted long enough, but I cannot return whilst I carry this child." Her features became cold and inflexible of a sudden. "I cannot even shift while in this state — I am forced to this limbo until I am rid of it."

"Shift? Rid of it?! It is a babe! How can you be so cruel?!"

"If I were cruel, I would leave the child in the forest to fend for itself or to feed the wolves. Though I cannot love the babe, I will ensure its safety before I go. That makes me practical-"

"And cold-hearted!"

"If you like." Brynja shrugged her shoulders. When Epona only continued to glower at her, she sighed finally. "I have been here too long, loathe as I am to carry out my purpose, but I must do what I came to do. This child was not planned and until it is born I will no longer take the swan form — the psychopomp you understand — and can not leave the plains of Midgard.

"I do not have your beliefs! Your gods are not mine!"

"Be that as it may, you will help my child, will you not?"

"Why should I do this? I owe you nothing." Epona's remonstrations were borne of confusion and growing dread, though she tried to remain open-minded and calm.

"You do not; however, I can grant you something in return. When I leave I would like to know she has someone like you to keep a vigilant eye on her. I am not saying I wish you to be her guardian. In return, I am willing to-"

"I need no favors from you, Brynja." Epona's eyes slitted suspiciously as she considered the strange being staring back at her. "Whose child do you carry?" And then suddenly her eyes widened with understanding. "No! How could you do that!"

"Very easily," she chuckled, "I assure you."

"Then ask Harald to watch over your half-ling!" And without another glance at the hateful creature, she lifted her skirts out of the way as she jogged the final distance to Ívarr's hall where that awful woman, Elfa, still lived.

She could still feel Brynja's cold eyes piercing her back as she clutched her belly and traversed the rocky little path in a hurry. She was certainly leery of Brynja, that was no secret, but she was more afeared of what Elfa might do to Aila, so she hastened despite the discomfort of her parturient state. 

The old woman had been slipping something into Aila's tea for months, perhaps longer than that, and Epona had been watching them closely ever since becoming suspicious. Elfa had ever been most adamant, sometimes to the point of arbitrary zeal, that Aila should drink every last drop of that minty tea. That had been her first clue.

She had not suspected Elfa long because... well why should she; the woman was Aila's grandmother. She had no need of harming her own flesh and blood. But on further consideration, having watched Elfa interact with Harald and having learnt their history, she knew it was not Aila that Elfa wished to injure; but Harald. The old hag would not even deign to conceal her abhorrence for him since losing Inge. It made perfect sense. Elfa would not allow Harald that which he most craved: an heir. That Aila could not see this for herself spoke of the girl's unwavering trust and love of her family.

Epona had long dreaded this day, but she was now resolved to open Aila's eyes. Unfortunately, there was no way to undo the damage already wrought. Aila's womb had been irrevocable damaged — there was nothing but a deathly, black stillness where life should pulse. It was that disclosure itself that Epona repudiated most of all — Aila would never be a mother; and it was up to her to divulge that hideous fact.

⭐️I'm going to try finish Part One this week to make up for only publishing one chapter last week. I think you are all starting to understand where I'm going with this and how it ties into Lair Of Beast 😈 or maybe you don't. I know Epona isn't your favorite character, but this was a necessary chapter. The next chapter is hers too, sorry 😅 Thanks for being here with me!⭐️