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Embla awoke in a bed that was not her own. She lingered in it for a few minutes, letting the scene come to her slowly: lamps turned low, softly colored walls, the half-light of the space between her kingdom and Askr's.
She stayed in bed until the pounding of her head and the heat of her body was too much to bear. Sighing deeply, she pushed herself up, forcing her heavy limbs to a stand. On the back of a nearby chair was a robe for her modesty, which she put on her shoulders without bothering to fit her arms through the sleeves.
The scent of warm bread greeted her in the hall, as well as light from the dining area. She was not the only one in this space, then.
"You are awake? Wonderful! Come have some food, dearest Embla."
Askr bustled around the kitchen, jumping from the stove to the oven to the table as he laid out a simple meal. Embla looked at the chairs near the table, staring at the hardwood seats. He looked back at her, head cocked questioningly, before he realized her concern.
"One moment," he said, fetching a cushion from the lounge to lay on top of one of the chairs. She nodded her thanks, having a seat.
"How long was I unconscious?" she asked.
"Not long, honestly," he said, setting a cup in front of her. "I brought you here when you started slowing down."
She measured out a spoonful of chicory and watched steam drift upwards as he filled her cup.
"I used to be able to spend days in your kingdom," she said, too tired to deliver the bitterness she felt into her words. "Now I can barely stand being there a whole night."
Askr laid out a set of preserves, his expression set in a practiced smile. "You are not the only one who has grown weaker in the face of the other's power," he said. "I couldn't trust myself to deliver you safely to your realm."
The cup was warm in Embla's hands. She didn't feel ready to have solid food yet. Minutes passed as she stared at the surface of her drink.
"Embla. Would you like to be held?"
Her ears pressed flat against the sides of her head.
"I would."
His lap and chest were much more comfortable than a chair, and she tucked herself in his embrace.
"What a strange cycle we find ourselves in," she said. "Barely able to stand being in each other's presence."
He hummed, carding his fingers through her hair. "And yet we make do."
She frowned, barely able to keep from scowling.
"Perhaps...we ought to stop seeing each other," she said. "Mind our realms. Take care of our people until this cycle ends."
He seemed genuinely taken aback by the suggestion. "We don't know when the cycle will end," he said. "It could be years, centuries from now."
"All the more reason to conserve our strength," she said, setting her cup back on the table. "Hurting ourselves with these...dallyances...is not worth it."
He clasped his hands around her waist, his grip light, nervous.
"Does it hurt you to be with me?" he asked.
She was so close to telling him the truth - she could taste it in her throat, waiting to be uttered, but she could not bring herself to expose it.
"One day, I may hurt you," she said instead. "You ought to prepare yourself for that day."
He considered this in a serious silence. She closed her eyes, half-expecting him to set her back down on the chair.
"Noted," he said finally. "But I will not stop you."
Embla scoffed, fighting the temptation to punch his belly.
"You are not hungry now," Askr said, changing the subject. "Shall I help you bathe?"
"Fine," she said, too upset that he was not taking her confession seriously, even if it was only half of what she wanted to say. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing, taking her to the washroom.
It was...odd, to see her hair so clean it fell straight. She wasn't sure if she liked it, but she didn't stop him. He washed her with tender care, using hands that could raise kingdoms and crush mountains to scrub away the sweat of her fever, to work out the aches of the loving he'd given her. She wanted to love the sensation, to relax in his care. And yet, she could not deny there was a dark resentment coloring her experience, making her wish he would get up and leave.
"Beloved," she said. "Do you ever wonder about our past cycles?"
He wrung out the sponge he was holding and brought it to her back once more. "At times I do, but not for long. I remember so little of them. In the meantime, there is much to do, much to experience in this cycle. I do not wish to miss a thing!"
It was an answer she knew he would give. "Do you ever wonder if there was a cycle where we work together, instead of opposite each other?"
He stilled for a moment. The water running down the sponge grew cold against her back.
"I do not think there has been a cycle like that yet," he said, a solemnity to his voice she rarely heard.
She shuddered at the sound of his voice and the chill of the water. She had wanted him to consider such serious things all night, but hearing it and being in the presence of it was unpleasant.
"How do you feel now?" he asked.
"Not quite ready to eat," she said. He picked her up again, taking her to the lounge so they could lay against the cushions.
"One day there will be a cycle where we are not opposites," he said.
She sighed, tucking himself under his chin. It would not be this cycle, and perhaps not the next. But one day, perhaps...