Gardenias (L. Laufeyson)

Chapter 4

"Thank goodness it's over," Maeve mumbled to her eldest brother once they were in the privacy of her suite. "That was so uncomfortable."

Asmund sighed and held out a hand, a gesture which she instantly declined. She didn't want her empathetic brother to take on her emotions at the moment. He was selfless to a fault, a trait most empaths displayed. "Maeve, it's going to be okay. He didn't seem bad. He was respectful."

"I know," she said. "It's just so awkward. The day before we're engaged is the day we meet. You're so lucky you never have to deal with it."

"I know. I think I have problems of my own, though."

Maeve smiled sympathetically. "You're still miserable, aren't you?"

Asmund nodded, running a distracted hand through his dirty blond hair. "I want to be a good king someday, Maeve, I really do. I want to help our people in any way I can. I owe it to Vanaheim. I love our realm. But it's not what I was meant for. Like this whole situation," he said, gesturing to their surroundings. "No matter how necessary it was, I couldn't do this to you, or to anyone. I'm too soft for it. But I'm the firstborn, and Papa is deadset on tradition above all else."

"I know. He's stuck in the past."

"You know, I've been talking to Corey about it a lot," Asmund said, his eyes glazing away as he spoke. "We've been trying to decide what happens when I ascend. He's only two years younger than me, and I trust him more than anyone."

"Talking about what?" Maeve asked curiously.

"Vanaheim is a vast realm," he said slowly. "We believe that one ruler alone is not enough to understand the needs of the people. Corey and I were talking of three to work in tandem, ruling the realm together."

Maeve's eyebrows shot up, having never considered something like this. "Like a coregency?"

"Yes. Exactly like a coregency. A bit progressive for Papa, but once I'm in charge, his opinion on the government won't matter any more than a common citizen's. We can do what we want."

"Who is your third ruler, then?"

Asmund smiled ruefully at his younger sister and took her hands. "Originally, we planned to ask you."

"Me?" Maeve was shocked. As the youngest and a princess, she had never thought of herself as a ruler. Her original plan for life was a quiet existence in the palace gardens. "Really?"

"Yes. I was to govern the people, Corey would lead the army, and you would be in charge of our affairs with other realms. We thought the three of us would work together best." He leaned back in his chair. "Of course, that's rather messed up now, isn't it?"

"Yes," she muttered, shaking her head. "I'm a bit preoccupied now. Who will you choose instead?"

"Hemming," he answered. "The rascal's much more charming than we give him credit for. He'll be good at it, I think. And you will be a good ally to have."

"That's true," Maeve said, laughing to herself. "Asmund, you work too hard. I'm happy you won't have to shoulder this alone."

"And I'm sorry that you will."

"I won't be. I'll... I'll find a new normal, hopefully." Asmund could hear the doubt in her voice. He tilted her chin up playfully, avoiding the area he sensed was shielded by magic. Only the two eldest sons of Frey knew of Maeve's occasional bruises, and both treated her carefully because of them.

"That's the spirit." He stretched his long legs out and yawned. "You know Corey and I will write as often as possible. And we'll bug the others to do the same."

"I'm sure you will. I know I'll write all the time." She sighed. "They don't seem terrible. I think it's going to be quieter here, though."

"Perhaps. Your betrothed doesn't seem like much of a social butterfly. But I think Thor will make up for the combined noise of all of us." Maeve laughed properly for the first time in days, and Asmund joined her. "Get some rest. You have a big day tomorrow. We all do."

"Good night, Asmund." He gave his sister a kiss on the forehead before departing.

Maeve glanced around at her room. It was nice, she supposed, but it was very plain, and it wasn't home. She tentatively journeyed through the French doors onto the balcony, and her spirits lifted a bit when she saw it overlook the gardens. With fresh air in her lungs, Maeve felt a little more like herself and went back inside to get ready for bed. As she rummaged through her closet for a nightgown, something caught her attention in the corner of her eye.

It was her shoe.

Sitting on the vanity was the white slipper she had lost all of those years ago at the ball. It had appeared out of nowhere. Cautiously, she approached it, and as she lifted it, she held it like an object not meant to be touched. Her confusion grew. How could that have happened? It went missing years ago. How had the singular shoe popped up in her suite? It hasn't been three seconds before.

As she pondered the random appearance of her shoe, it vanished right out of her hands. Maeve felt her stomach twist as she glanced around, sure that someone was messing with her, but no one was there, and the shoe was gone.

Maybe I just imagined it. I am tired and stressed.

She sat down on the vanity chair intending to brush out her hair, and the shoe reappeared in her lap. She shrieked and fell off of the chair, crashing into a bookshelf. Some of the thick volumes came crashing down, one or two landing right on her head. She chucked the shoe across the room, and right before it hit the wall, it disappeared. Groaning, Maeve dug herself out of the mountain of books and looked wildly around the room. After five minutes of searching, she finally accepted that the mad shoe was gone. She sighed and slipped into a white nightgown and went to look at the stars on the balcony.

The shoe appeared next to her on the railing. She screamed and threw it off.

"OW!" Someone below her yelled. Maeve's eyes widened as she ducked, hoping no one would spot her. That was Prince Thor's booming voice. She had hit him in the head with the shoe.

Thankfully, the shoe did not reappear again. Maeve spent the extra time to carefully shelve all of the books with care in the way they were before she had knocked them over, grimacing as she did. Someone was having a good laugh somewhere. And if she ever found out who did it, vines would twist around their neck faster than they could apologize.

She slid into the bed and blew out a candle, engulfing the room in darkness. The only light came through the windows, due to the moon and stars, the same moon and stars seen on Vanaheim. This was Maeve's last thought before she cried herself to sleep.