The Gods always surprise you when you’re not looking; I sometimes liken this to being struck with a cattle prod when you least expect it. With Queen Maeve, that seems to perpetually be the case.
I remember I was sitting down, crocheting — and I recalled a memory, where I had asked Cernunnos if I had been a good polytheist, and He had replied, with the strangest smile, that indeed I had been good to Him.
Cernunnos loves to riddle and confound with musky clarity; but Maeve loves to provoke, sharply, so as to slice into one’s heart and bring up confusion with revelation.
She raised an eyebrow along with the corner of Her lip and said, in that voice of Hers that’s sharp, soft, compassionate, and condescending all at the same time: There’s no such thing as a good polytheist — and you are not a good polytheist.
She knows best how to push my buttons: so I immediately agonized and didn’t sleep for two days thinking what the fuck she was talking about. I recounted every single memory, every single encounter, combing through every action to measure what had been right, what had been wrong, and what had been so terrible so as to make a Goddess tell me I was no a good polytheist.
While I was still jailed in my own head, stretching Her words back and forth in a desperate attempt to grasp its meaning, I approached Her to ask another question that had been snaking around my arm.
“Then if I’m not a good polytheist,” I said, “or a bad one, then what am I?”
You’re my Daughter, She answered with a chuckling scoff, as if it was the answer I was supposed to have known all along. To Cernunnos, are you not His Wife? To Frigg, are you not Her student? To Loki, are you not His scribe? To Us, you are not polytheists; you are what you are to Us. When will you understand that?
To Us, you are not polytheists; you are what you are to Us. When will you understand that?
What do you think, my readers?