Between the Lines

Sanctuary

November 20th, 2013

          After I had soothed and dressed Eibhlin as gently as possible and without looking at her naked form, as much as I would have enjoyed doing so, I had gone looking for the only person I knew I could talk to about the marks on my Little Dove. I had nearly made it to her apartments when Bjørn had bumped into me on his way to the dungeons from his barracks. Mother was attending to her eldest son's broken heart; I would need to seek out the next best person, though I was not excited to do so. Hlíf had never been overly fond of me alone.

    The kitchen mistress was a person of little sleep. An admirable woman, she had learned from Åge that the only way to run the kitchens was to get her hands dirty and to care for each of the staff as if they were her own family members. It had made the kitchen staff one of the most closely knit within the entirety of the golden palace; so much so that Thor and I had once hoped we could become a part of it before the lie had doubled down with both Mother and the All-Father reminding us that our first duty was to Asgard as young princes and future kings. Still, that had not kept me from being a frequent visitor to the kitchens. More so once Eibhlin had joined their rankings after she had proven to be a terrible handmaiden in Odin's eyes.

    As suspected, I found her sitting at one of the large prep tables, a few of her staff members fluttering about as she gently gave orders. With Jul quickly approaching, she was making her pepperkaker dough early so there would be enough time to turn around and prepare for the Nyttarsbukk celebration. The air was fragrant with the scent of cinnamon, black pepper, and clove mixed with sweet citrus as Frode moved several heavy-looking bowls of candied orange slices into the ice chest. It was my favorite time to be near the kitchens, and Eibhlin back when she worked here as the scent lingered on her skin for days.

    "Should have known you'd find your way here. How's my little wildling; heard she had quite the ordeal earlier."

    "You hear everything, Hlíf," I smirked as she nodded at Frode who placed a plate with slices of settekake and a ramekin of cinnamon butter that was only made this time of year before me before he ushered everyone else out of the kitchen.

    "Have to; how else do you think I stay prepared? Now, eat; you're skin and bone again, Dystert," She smirked, calling me by the nickname Åge had given me shortly before his passing.

    I nodded my thanks as I tore the yeast bread into thirds and dipped it into the soft butter, sighing contently as I nibbled on it. "Eibhlin is resting. And 'ordeal' would not be the word I would use, though I'm not sure if I have a word for what occurred..."

    "She'll be alright?"

    I looked into the kitchen mistress' gentle grey eyes, worry wrought all over her face. "She will be. I'll make sure of it."

    She eyed me harshly, Frode turning to look me up and down as well as he came to collect the balls of dough she had shaped for the ice chest. "I take it then that our little lady has indeed thawed your frozen heart?"

    "In more ways than one," I chuckled, almost choking on the settekake as they both glared at me. "Not that way..."

    "See that it stays that way." Frode huffed at me in agreement. He had always been a man of few words, much like his mother, Thyra. Her, I missed greatly; and not just because no one had ever been able to replicate the delicate balance of her akevittsorbet.

    "I will. I promise."

    Hlíf sighed, kneading more of the pepperkaker dough almost sullenly. "We mean no disrespect, it's just... Well, she was raised in these kitchens; brought a bit of sunshine with her each day, she did." Frode nodded, humming softly as he came to help with the dough. "Happiest day of my life was watchin' her walk that aisle beside you and the queen, just as she always should have. You'd have been proud of her though, carrying on with her head held high after you fell."

    A long pause fell over us then as they stopped kneading the dough and relaxed back, each taking a piece of the settekake as I passed them the butter to share with me. "Mother... told me about that. If I had known-"

    "Don't say you wouldn't have done it," Hlíf snapped; "You may be cold-hearted, and she may be stubborn as a mule but not a one of us missed the way you two looked at one another these last forty-odd years. You saved her... You saved her for all of us. That's a debt I can't repay."

    "Nor can I...," Frode muttered, his lilting voice reminding me so much of his mother. "You have the love of an angel, Prince Loki... I hope you know how lucky you are."

    An almost unsettling feeling came over me at that comment. I thought back over the last ninety-four years, thinking of all the instances I could recall where Frode had looked after Eibhlin. They were almost too numerous to count; from the times in the stables and barns where he had refused to let us pass to torment her, to banquets and balls where we had mocked her. Was this comment made in a brotherly way as I knew Thor would have done, or was it made with a hint of jealousy as I could only imagine Fandral would have used?

    "Trust me, I do." I eyed them both closely, unsure if this was the wisest idea yet knowing it was too late to turn back. With a deep breath, I began to beseech them for any answers they could offer. As they exchanged a nervous look, I knew this wasn't going to be easy. "Look, you don't have to reveal anything you feel she should tell me; at least tell me the barest bones of information so I can better understand just all that she's been through."

    Hlíf hesitated as Frode shook his head at her. She lifted her grey eyes to meet his pale blue ones while I watched them have a silent debate before Hlíf loudly clapped her hands to the table as Frode got up, leaving just as the others had. The kitchen mistress turned her attention to me as she slid me the dough Frode had been working on. "If you want information, you'll have to earn it."

    "Fair enough; show me how."

    I watched her skilled hands closely, copying her motions of stretching it with the heel of her hand, folding and then stretching some more before she rolled it into a thick ball. "I take it you've seen her scars? Only thing that'll make even your blank face twist with fright."

    "I did, but before you think poorer of me-"

    "Never thought poorly of you," she interjected; "I just made many mistakes with you, same as all the others. You didn't make it easy to like you though, if I may say."

    "You can. You should probably say worse if I'm honest."

    "Another day perhaps," she offered me a small smile, passing me more dough as she took mine and adjusted the ball I had tried to make. "And I know you wouldn't put a hand on my wilding girl, and not just because she'd slit you from navel to nose." She sighed then despite the joke. Or at least I hoped it was a joke. "Eibhlin... She never asked for any of the things that befell her. And they never should have to begin with. I don't know all the finer points of what she went through, but I do know that her life was a hard one, both before she... became what she is, and after. Even here, she never was treated as she should have been. We tried our best, we did but... She was never meant to be here, and we all knew it. Always believed she was suited for so much more, so much better than this; than to be ignored and forgotten once more. Same as you. Never thought I'd see the day though... You two managed to find love in the most hopeless of places, and while I'm still skeptical of your affections given your years of injudiciousness, you make my little wildling happier than I've ever seen. She never has nightmares on nights when she's spent her day with you..."

    My eyes widened at that comment. "How do you know this when she hasn't slept in the maids' chambers for years?"

    "She sings." It was such a flippant response that I was almost caught off guard. "When she'd had a night free of them, she'd come in here and sing while she worked," Hlíf smiled, staring down at the dough in her hands. "That girl has walked through more fires in her young life than most even come across and she would still use her bleeding heart to paint the sunrise. You want to know how to care for her? Don't be afraid of her darkness... And if you are? Love her anyway."