“You may go.” Audunn’s voice, detached and commanding as always, dismisses me from the dark room. I slide out of his bed and pull the silk dressing coat over my naked body, tying it tight against the evening chill.
As always, Ragna waits in the hall along with a guard to escort me back to my room.
It used to be humiliating, walking through the castle in nothing but my dressing gown after being tossed from my husband’s bed, but by now, I’ve gotten quite used to it. Servants and noble-folk alike bow or curtsey to me as I pass, some whispering conspicuously, some offering me hopeful smiles.
The preferred topic of gossip at the moment is why I have yet to conceive.
While it is perfectly normal for it to take a woman near to 100 years to get pregnant, I am the highest ranking woman in Alfheim. That means I am held to a different set of standards. By many’s belief, I should have conceived the first time I laid with Audunn and should by now be well on my way to providing him his sixth heir.
What they do not know is that I pray every night that I will not get pregnant.
In Audunn’s less-than-polite terms, my father ‘refuses to die’. And every passing year that Audunn does not take the throne, he grows more and more cruel. Anger continues to delude his mind, and many servants shake at the mere mention of his name.
I can empathize.
Against all odds, Sveinn still lives, though he has many scars to show for it. In order to ensure both his safety and mine, I have gotten to where I do not speak at all when in Audunn’s presence, unless I must, in which case I stick to a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’. When all else fails, it’s usually safe to agree with his last few phrases. But despite my efforts, Audunn still finds reason for fury, and Sveinn and I bear the brunt of his abuses.
That is why, regardless of the fact that some part of me wants to be a mother, I pray that I am barren.
It would break me to have to bring a child into Audunn’s cruel world.
{***}
The days run together. Before I know it, winter is in full swing and the castle is preparing for Yule, a silly Midgardian tradition that Alfheim stubbornly observes. Over the past few years, I’ve gotten used to it and have even come to enjoy certain aspects of it, but I still do not see the point. Why is there an entire event dedicated to giving everyone in your life a gift? It’s quite overwhelming.
I amble over to the calendar on my writing desk, counting the days until Yule officially begins. Eight. Okay, I still need to get gifts for Lady Katrienne, Sir Miran, Audunn—
Audunn.
According to the calendar, I’m five days late.
“Ragna!” I call for my handmaiden, panic causing my voice to sound strangled.
Alarmed, she rushes into the room to see me practically doubled over, clutching my calendar. She catches on quickly, her mouth pulling into a shocked frown. “Oh no.”
I cover my face with my hands, then throw the calendar down angrily and pace. It’s all too much. My hands begin to shake. “I can’t be late, Ragna. Late means pregnant, and pregnant means—” I can’t say it. My eyes prick with tears.
Ragna hurries to the basin and fills a glass with water, urging me to drink. At the very least, drinking the water forces me to focus. After many deep breaths, my heart slows. I feel my mouth set into a hard line.
“I will not bring a child into this world if it is to be at the mercy of Audunn.”
Ragna clasps my hand, looking utterly distraught. “I am so sorry, My Lady. We’ll figure something out. Please don’t worry.”
But worry is all I can do.
{***}
The cool light of a winter sunrise is what wakes me the next morning. I rub my heavy eyes, having gotten little sleep. I stare at the ceiling, desperately not wanting to get up and confront the day. Ragna knocks and enters the room quietly, giving me a brittle smile when she sees me already awake.
“Good morning, My Lady. I thought you might like some tea.”
I force my face into what I hope is a grateful expression. Standing, I take the steaming cup in my hands, allowing it to warm me as I head to my favorite chaise. The tea is certainly good, but it does little to elevate my mood; I still have the issue of a possible pregnancy hanging over my head.
“My Lady, look!” At the sound of Ragna’s shout, I rush back to the bed.
Right where I had been lying is a small splotch of rust-colored blood.
The teacup falls to the ground and shatters as I drop to my knees, immediately dissolving into tears of relief.
Ragna offers me a true smile now, her own happiness shining through her eyes. She disappears, returning nearly immediately with a washcloth to clean the tea mess, still beaming. “This is good, My Lady. Bearing Audunn’s child can be put off for a while longer.”
I raise my head.
Because she’s right.
This is probably only the first of many pregnancy scares. And how many of those would end up in actual children?
I bite my lip and sink fully to the floor, considering. “No. I can’t do this every time, waiting and waiting in hopes that, by some miracle, I won’t get pregnant. Bearing Audunn’s child needs to be put off forever.”
Ragna sighs, straightening. “I understand, My Lady…but what can you do? There are no ways to prevent pregnancy here in Alfeim. It is not our custom.”
My heart sinks as I consider her words. No ways to prevent pregnancy…
Here in Alfheim.
No…
I cannot dare to hope.
Only for emergencies…
I swallow, scarcely able to believe I’m about to do what I have planned. When I finally get the words out, they feel both endlessly wrong and euphorically right. “Ragna, please find me some parchment and a pen. I need to write a letter.”
A/n Ooo who’s she writing to? Let me know what you thought and if you would like to be added to the tag list!
Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/638547377817550848/odins-ward-chapter-13
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♔—- “Um… I may have adopted another cat from the shelter. And by another cat from the shelter, I mean three kittens that I found on the side of the street.” Loki at least had the decency to look ashamed of himself, though he was really anything but. “But hear me out! They were just dropped off in a box in the rain and they needed a home! I couldn’t just leave them there and how could we split up what I’m assuming are triplets that don’t have a mother to look out for them? We have to keep them, Steve! It would just be cruel not to!” He flashed Steve his best puppy dog eyes with a pathetic pout to match.
