Chapter Text
“Vedrfolnir? Is something the matter?” Eftirvit gently calls out to the shrouded figure in the royal halls.
The teenager flinches, whipping his head around to stare wide eyed at the other. His breath falls in panicked gasps from his lips, his body trembling as he quickly wipes away tears. Eftirvit steps closer, watching the way Vedrfolnir rushes to compose himself.
“Apologies for the unruly sight, I wasn't expecting anyone to pass by me, much less you.” The blonde boy cringes at his own words, disliking the accidental aggression laced within them.
Eftirvit smiles at him, it's small and barely noticeable- but Ved still picks up on it.
“I had…matters that required the king’s approval, hence why I'm here.”
The man takes a seat beside Vedrfolnir on the bench, both of them silently watching the tranquil view of the vinster king's courtyard. Shame bubbles within Ved’s stomach. He may be 15, but he shouldn’t act as such. He was a member of the royal court now, crying in such a public manner was undignified. The king would surely have something sour to say if he knew. Ved looks to the man beside him with visible anxiety.
“Are you planning to tell King Irminsul about this?” He asks cautiously, hopeful that Eftirvit won't tell the king of Vedrfolnir's little stunt.
The older man looks at him somewhat sadly, though Vedrfolnir can't determine what's going on from the man's face alone.
“I have no plans to inform the king of this moment. You're still a child, it's rather cruel to punish you for behaving as one.” Vedrfolnir feels soothed by the calmness in Eftirvit's voice, so gravelly but somehow warm at the same time.
The blonde scoffs, rubbing his wrist against his puffy eyes to wipe away the residue of his tears.
“I am no child, Eftirvit. I'm just…overwhelmed, I suppose.” He brings his legs up on the bench, placing his chin against his knees and wrapping his hands around his legs. Despite his claims of maturity from mere moments ago, he lets himself curl up this time. The king would be so displeased to see him behave this way. The king's approval constantly circles around the forefront of his brain.
Eftirvit’s palm gently falls onto Vedrfolnir’s shoulder. He flinches, and the older man pulls away. Vedrfolnir feels worse when his hand leaves, he quite liked its reassurance until his own body’s instincts had to ruin it for him.
“Do you wish to talk about your troubles, Vedrfolnir?”
The teenager stills, letting a significant amount of time pass them both by as he considers his options. His rationale tells him to politely decline the offer. As a prophet of the royal court, keeping his composure is a key element to retaining his status and job. He knows he should not let himself slip, not if he wants to be the version of himself that his king wants.
However, Eftirvit had made the offer first. He is offering to listen. Vedrfolnir sighs. Him and Eftirvit are hardly close, mere acquaintances at best- yet still, he’s the only person Vedrfolnir feels comfortable confiding in. His father has been gone for a long time, and his mother is a wound that cuts him worse than any blade ever could. He has his baby brother, but other than him…he has no one. He’s alone, utterly alone. He wants to get this weight off of his chest so badly, and Eftirvit is truly his only outlet to do so.
“It's about my baby.” Vedrfolnir looks down at the flowing grass as he speaks.
Eftirvit makes a confused little noise. The blonde haired teenager looks over to him, seeing his brows crinkle in concern.
“You have a child? But…your still so young yourself-”
Vedrfolnir feels embarrassed, cutting the older man off to correct himself.
“-No, uhm…my baby brother. I misspoke."
Eftirvit seems relieved at the young prophet's words. His hand falls back on Vedrfolnir's shoulder. This time, he doesn't flinch, and the reassurance stays.
“Ah, I see now. Dainsleif, corret?”
Vedrfolnir looks a little shocked.
“How did you know that?”
Eftirvit fixes him with a soft expression.
“You have his drawings hanging up in your office. He signs his name in the bottom corner of every single one.”
For the first time all day, Vedrfolnir giggles. His little baby brother always makes his pain feel less immense.
“That he does.” Vedrfolnir adds happily.
“So your brother…I take it he's causing you some form of stress?” The older man asks.
Vedrfolnir feels his chest tighten up, his lip quivering as he tries to figure out how to word his woes.
“He didn't do anything wrong. The problem is me…ive ruined everything.”
Eftirvit pulls the blonde boy closer to him, sensing great distress within his frail little body.
“I highly doubt that's the case. What could you have done to warrant such a tremendous burden?”
Vedrfolnir wants to cry again, but he wont. He can’t.
“Before our father died, he left us with some small keepsakes. Dain never got to know him, not like I did. Our father left him with this dragon sculpture. Well…it's not really a sculpture, father made it with his own hands, it can bend and has joints. Dain loves the thing, he…he even named it after our father. He calls it “Horfinn”, he takes it everywhere he goes.” Vedrfolnir sniffles.
“Some of the wood on the wing chipped, and Dain asked me to fix it. I thought it would be an easy fix but I…I ended up breaking it. I…I tried to put it back together for him, I told him that it was still the same Horfinn he loves so much, just with a few cuts and boo boos. But Dain…he screamed at me. He started crying, he tried to hit me but he's so little…his fists dont hurt at all. But still, he was so upset. He said he hated me, that I “promised to fix his dragon but I ended up hurting it instead”. I know it's just a toy, but…I feel so terrible. Our father is gone, that toy is one of the only things Dain has to remember him by, he trusted me to fix it, and I broke it. How could I have been so thoughtless?” Vedrfolnir chokes on his words.
Eftirvit sighs. Vedrfolnir feels guilty for dumping such a personal problem onto his fellow member of the court.
“It was an accident, Vedrfolnir. You shouldn't blame yourself for a mistake…you just wanted to help.” Eftirvit somberly reassures him.
Vedrfolnir shakes his head, still feeling terrible.
“It doesn't matter that it was a mistake…I broke something that can never be replaced.”
Silence falls over both of them, the chirping of the birds nearby is the only sound that comes forth. Vedrfolnir feels embarrassment and regret slamming into him at full force. He abruptly gets up, ready to walk away and escape the situation he brought upon himself. Eftirvit makes a confused grumble at the young prophet's sudden movement.
“Vedrfolnir…where are you going?” The older man asks with concern.
The blonde turns on his heel, scampering away.
“Please, forget I said anything. It was wrong of me to place that type of burden on you.” He speaks fastly, still shaken up.
Before Eftirvit can even have the time to form a response, Vedrfolnir rushes out of the royal courtyard, feeling even worse than he had before.
___________
Later in the night, once Ved has returned home- he finds Dainsleif sitting on the stairs. Vedrfolnir looks at him sadly, still fretting over the situation between the two of them.
“Dain…i’m home.” He calls out.
His little brother perks up, finally noticing him. He jumps to the bottom of the stairs, running over to him. Ved’s own instincts take over and he holds his hands out, knowing that Dain is about to jump on him. He turns out to be right, his baby leaps up- wraps his legs and arms around him like a koala. Vedrfolnir smiles, relieved that Dain is seemingly excited to see him. He wraps his own arms around the tiny body that clings to him.
“Your back! I missed you…” Dain sounds a little sad, which makes Vedrfolnir uneasy.
Dainsleif nuzzles into his big brother's neck, hiding away in its warmth and seeking comfort in the contact.
“M’sorry Veddie. I was…I was so mean to you. Are you gonna hate me?” Dain starts to cry, the sound of it breaks Ved’s heart.
He shushes his brother. He takes a seat on one of the chairs in their kitchen and pulls Dain in to sit on his lap. He wipes away his little brother's tears, petting his cheeks to soothe him somewhat.
“Dain…hey-stop crying. I’m not mad at you, and I definitely don't hate you.” Ved works hard to reassure the distraught little boy in front of him.
“You…You promise?” Teary blue eyes stare up at Vedrfolnir.
Ved pulls Dain into his arms, hugging him tightly. Dain cries against his chest, but Vedrfolnir can worry about the snot on his clothing at a later time.
“I promise, baby. You're my whole world, I could never hate you.”
He presses a gentle kiss against Dain’s head, rubbing his back in tandem. Eventually, Dainsleif starts to settle down. Those sorrowful cries have subsided into small sniffles.
“Are you hungry, Dain?” Vedrfolnir asks him after he hears the little boy's stomach rumble.
Dain nods his head. Vedrfolnir picks him up and gently places him down on the ground.
“Alright, I assumed so. Let me get changed out of my work clothes, and after that I'll start preparing dinner.”
Dain stays put in the main area of their home. There isn't much space inside these tiny walls, but Dain seems content to lay on the floor and draw in his coloring book. Ved smiles at the sight before he heads upstairs to his own room.
As he takes off his formal clothes, he realizes how tired he truly is from the day's events. He was thankful to have his position in the royal court, but he still wouldn't deny the stress that came from it. The king was demanding, and oftentimes hard to please. Vedrfolnir wishes he could be more like Hroptatyr, or even Eftirvit for that matter. Both of them seemed to handle their tasks more efficiently than Vedrfolnir ever could. Hopefully, with time and age, he’ll manage to grow accustomed to it. It’s not like he has any choice in the matter after all, being the court prophet allows him to give Dainsleif a much better childhood than the one he experienced. He’d do anything to keep it that way.
He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of knocking coming from the front door. He rushes to put on one of his leisurely shirts and heads back down the stairs to figure out who’s here. He frowns when he sees that the door has already been opened. Eftirvit stands there, peering down at Dainsleif as he waves at him.
“Dainsleif. I thought I made it very clear that you're not supposed to open the door to people you don't know.” Vedrfolnir reprimands the little troublemaker.
Dain’s face falls into a sad pout, looking down at his feet and feeling bad for not listening,
“M’sorry.”
Ved leans down to ruffle his hair, letting his little brother know he’s not in any real kind of trouble. He looks over at Eftirvit. The man seems a little tense, he’s dressed down to what Vedrfolnir assumes are his casual clothes. He has a box tucked between his arms, which piques the prophets curiosity.
“What brings you here, Eftirvit?”
The older man hesitates for a slight moment,
“Our conversation today left me feeling a bit uneasy, I just wanted to make sure that-”
Vedrfolnir narrows his eyes, nearly glaring at him. He doesn't like what it implies, that Eftirvit assumes him to be weak, some small boy in need of coddling. Vedrfolnir was none of those things. He was smart enough to finish his schooling years before everyone else his age could. He was chosen by the king himself, selected to use his gifts to the kingdom's advantage. He worked constantly, never complaining because he had a child to look after. He doesn't need Eftirvit’s concern.
“-I am perfectly fine, Eftirvit. I don't want your pity, or your help. I can take care of myself.” Vedrfolnir lets some venom spill from his lips.
Eftirvit sighs, fixing him with an expression of indifference, as if he expected the prophet to react this way.
“It wasn't my intention to make you feel that way. I apologize.”
Vedrfolnir sighs. Guilt gnawing at his skin for reacting rather harshly. It wasn't fair of him to talk so rudely to a fellow member of the court, especially one that has a higher position of authority than him.
“Forgive me for my words just now…it’s been a long day. Please, come in. I’m fixing dinner, you should stay.” Vedrfolnir tries to rectify the situation.
Eftirvit hesitantly steps into the small home. Dainsleif follows behind Eftirvit, clearly fixated on the box in his hand but too shy to outright ask what’s inside. Eftirvit takes a seat on the rickety worn-in couch. The prophet feels a little embarrassed by it, knowing that his home is far below the luxurious expectations of a court member. Eftirvit hardly seems to mind, looking around the small space with a little smile.
“This place hasn't changed much since I was last here.” The older man somberly notes.
Vedrfolnir sighs, sitting down as well on a chair close by. He knew that Eftirvit was somewhat close with his father, but Vedrfolnir can't remember much of those years now. He wishes he could, but wishing solves nothing in the long run.
“I have no interest in changing it. My father worked hard to make this place feel like a home, I intend to keep it that way.”
Eftirvit smiles at him.
“You value your family a lot. That's a good trait to have, Vedrfolnir.”
Eftirvit’s eyes peer down to Dainsleif. The little boy has gone back to laying on the floor, coloring in his book as he lets the two of them talk. The older man clears his throat, clearly trying to grab Dainsleif’s attention. Dain’s little head snaps up to look at him, his starry eyes wide and impatient.
“Dainsleif…I uhm-I have something for you. It’s inside this box.”
Dainsleif practically lights up in sudden excitement. A giddy smile forming on his face.
“Really?”
Eftirvit nods his head. Dain scampers onto his feet to rush over to the older man. Vedrfolnir feels his face tighten, some uneasy feeling sinking into his gut. He’s dreadfully overprotective of his baby brother, and even though he logically knows that Eftirvit doesn't have any harmful intentions, he still worries.
Eftirvit delicately opens the box. Dainsleif braces his little body against the side of Eftirvits leg, putting both hands on it as he stands on his tippy toes to see what's inside. Eftirvit decides to stand up instead, wanting the small boy to have a better view of the surprise. He takes it out of the box, handing it over to Dainsleif. There's a lengthy moment of silence as Dainsleif inspects the item in his hands.
“Well…is it to your liking, Dainsleif?” Eftirvit asks in a nervous tone.
A smile tugs on Vedrfolnir’s lips. Poor Eftirvit, clearly the man isn't used to being around small children. But still, he attempts to talk to Dainsleif regardless, waiting keenly for a response.
Dainsleif holds the wooden toy within his tiny palms. His big blue eyes dart between it and Eftirvit. He bounces on the balls of his feet, too much energy inside his tiny little body.
“This looks like the toy that dada made for me.” His cute little voice wrings through the air, causing both Vedrfolnir and Eftirvit to smile.
“Yes, well…I was a friend of your father. He had given me this a long time ago…but I figured that you would want it more.” Eftirvit explains, staring down at the little blonde boy.
Dainsleif gasps, moving closer to Eftirvit and invading his personal space. He gently tugs at the older man's clothing with his unoccupied hand.
“So…this is for me? I can keep it?” He asks, looking up with big puppy dog eyes.
“Yes…It's yours now, Dainsleif.” Eftirvit smiles down at him, cautiously patting the boy's head.
Dainsleif smiles, big and wide. He rushes over to Vedrfolnir, gently pulling his brother's hands open and forcing him to hold his new toy. He then makes a beeline right back towards Eftirvit. He squeals as he jumps on the man. His small body tackles him into a hug.
Eftirvit gasps. His eyes blow wide and he has to hold onto the couch beside him to avoid falling over as the little boy clings onto him like he's a jungle gym.
“Thank you, thank you!” Dainsleif happily shouts out, making his hug ever tighter.
Eftirvit laughs. Vedrfolnir sighs, feeling embarrassment for his overexcited brother’s reaction.
“Dain, that is not how you should thank people. Your words are enough…now give Mr. Eftirvit some space, please.”
Dainsleif giggles, jumping down and rushing back over to Ved to steal his new toy back.
“Gonnagoplayinmyroom-” He rushes the words out as he runs to his room, overjoyed to play with his new toy.
Vedrfolnir sighs happily as he watches his baby brother disappear into his room. Him and Eftirvit are left alone now, staring at each other.
“I…thank you. That was a kind gesture.” Vedrfolnir quietly commends.
Eftirvit nods with a smile.
“It’s what your father would have wanted.”
Vedrfolnir feels a bittersweet tug at his heart.
“I have other matters that need attending to, so I have to get going.”
Vedrfolnir gets up to see him out, holding the door open as the older man leaves.
“Thank you for your generosity, Eftirvit.”
“You're a very talented young man, Vedrfolnir. I've seen too many people crumble under the pressure of the king’s demands, I just…I don't want you to become another one of them. I understand that you're more than capable of taking care of yourself, but don't let that stop you from coming to me if it’s too much to handle, okay?” Eftirvit speaks to him honestly.
Vedrfolnir feels this strange nagging in his heart. He’s not used to being addressed with so much consideration, it feels unnatural. It’s not unpleasant, just…unexpected. The young prophet offers the older man a smile.
“I will keep that in mind, Eftirvit. Have a good rest of your night.”