The light was warm and smelled of burning wood.
The first time he'd fought back to consciousness, shadows filled his eyes and the smell of cedar blanketed the room. But he'd fallen back into the darkness from which he'd fought and the room disappeared completely.
As his brain finally came to consciousness for perhaps the third time, Ketil could feel that he was lying under blankets on something soft. His skin radiated warmth and his hair fell around his face in thick curls. He blinked once, seeing a blurry face above him. She had soft eyes, the lines of her face pulled into a concerned expression. A strand of white hair fell from her braided hair and onto his face. The light from the fire flickered fuzzily and she carefully pressed the back of her hand against his forehead, muttering softly to herself.
"Mom?" He whispered softly as the woman drew back, disappearing from his sight. "Mom," he whispered again, rolling onto his side with a deal of pain. He let out a small grunt as he watched the woman kneel at the base of a bassinet before laying a small baby down inside. She whispered something, making sure the child was swaddled with warm fabric.
She turned to face Ketil and he froze. He didn't recognize the curve of her face, he didn't know those dark eyes. "Back from the land of the dead, are you?"
He squirmed, forcing himself into a sitting position. He let out a gasp of pain as the room came into sharp focus, the warm light of the fire, the warm furs draped over his body. He was vaguely aware that he was wearing little more than underclothes, but the pain that wrapped itself around his body was much more real.
"Be careful there, je alsede." The woman who was not his mother came closer to him and he threw his arm out to stop her.
"No." He pressed an arm against his chest before letting out another cry. "Ah, ah, no." He whispered to himself before cradling his arm close to his body.
"The river spared you little mercy. From what I can tell, your ribs and collar bone appear to be broken. Your ankle was also sprained, but not terribly. You're lucky to be alive at all." She carefully sat on the bed beside him and he dropped his guard a little.
He bit into his lip as the pain became sharper with every panicked breath. He grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut to prevent tears from escaping his eyes.
"There you go, settle down. If you keep that up, you're going to hurt yourself. No one here is going to hurt you." She brushed a hand over his forehead with a small noise. "Lie back down, will you? Get some rest, I've got a stew on the fire. It's no meal for an emperor, but it'll get you back on your feet in no time."
The door to the small hut opened up and a man burst in, a fair coating of snow dusting his coat and hat. He carried a bundle of wood in his arms and laughed heartily as he laid a fat winter hare on the table, a length of wire wrapped tightly around its neck.
"Look at this! We finally caught the devil that's been in the garden during thaw season. Caught him under the woodshed." He took his hat off, brushing snow from his shoulders. "Kaia, you will never believe—" the man cut off with a large smile, laying his armload of wood down beside the fire. "Welcome back to the living, boy. Thought for a moment you might have left us for good."
Ketil was silent.
The baby in the bassinet began to cry slowly and the woman, Kaia, rushed over to pick it up. "Oh Olve, you've woken him. It's taken me long enough to put him to sleep. He's been awful fussy today." She cradled the baby in her arms, looking back to Ketil as she tried to quiet him. "Why don't you speak? You can understand, can't you?"
He nodded once.
"Good," the man named Olve said quickly. "Didn't know if you'd pull through, but it appears that you're tougher than you look. Can you talk?"
Ketil cleared his throat, his voice coming out as a squeak. "Yes."
They were all silent. Even the baby had quieted down as Kaia carefully rocked him back and forth.
"Do you remember what happened?" Olve whispered, pulling off his boots.
Ketil nodded, "I broke through the ice, my foot got caught in the stirrup of my horse. I couldn't break through."
"That explains your ankle then," Kaia whispered, sitting at in a rocking chair. "If it wasn't for your horse, we wouldn't have seen you tangled up in our nets. Olve managed to drag you out and get the water out of your lungs."
He took a deep breath, cringing as the pain reverberated around his ribs. It was a familiar but sharp pain.
Kaia fussed with the swaddling cloth around the child before meeting Ketil's eyes. "I don't understand how you are alive."
"You saved my life—I would have drowned."
"No," Olve finished. "You know exactly what we mean."
Ketil shook his head slowly, still cradling his left arm against his bare chest.
"You have been dead for five years," Kaia whispered.
"No," he finally said.
"Prince Østberg?" She finally said, staring into his eyes.
"My name is Ketil." He looked away, letting his arm drop to his side before touching the thick black scar over his heart. "And I died five years ago at my sister's hand."
There was a thin silence, interrupted by small cries from the child.
"How are you...?" Kaia trailed off.
"Aslaug stabbed me in the heart and I died a real death, but a woman from Rajsend—a gifted batræ—brought me back to life. I have been in Rajsend for that time, assisting her and her team of batræ."
"Why are you back then?" Olve said quickly, kicking off his boots before turning to the hare on the table. He took out a knife, shaking his head before going to work on the hare. "Why would you return when you know that lusccans are destined to die?"
Ketil shook his head, "I can't talk about it—I don't want to talk about it."
"All in time then?" Kaia whispered, "for now you need to rest, Prince."
"I am not a prince anymore. I am Ketil—just Ketil."
"Alright, Ketil." She sighed, "we don't have much, but our home is yours until you heal."
He nodded, relaxing a little, leaning his head against the wall. His body throbbed but he wouldn't allow himself to cry out again. He gritted his teeth, listening to the sound of the fire as it consumed wood, he could also hear the soft noise of Olve's knife cutting through meat and sinew.
He opened his eyes and Kaia was beside him, the child placed in the basinet. She held up a shirt. "Here, let me help you with this. I know you're in pain and you don't know us, but..." she trailed off. "We want to help you."
He sat up a little, cringing. "You saved my life, I think you've done a bit more than just help."
"We do what we can." She lifted up the buttoned shirt, carefully helping his weak left arm inside before he managed to get his right arm inside the sleeve.
"Thank you," he whispered, fiddling with the buttons around his throat. She fixed the first one and he looked away as she continued, slightly embarrassed at the fact someone else was dressing him. Any movement with his left arm brought a searing flare of pain across his shoulder and collar so he just let it hang by his side uselessly. Not to mention his ribs that throbbed with a vengeance any time he took a deep breath or attempted to move quickly
She offered him a small smile, before turning to Olve. "Wash up, will you? I'm sure our guest is hungry."
"Of course, love." He smiled a little, finishing butchering the hare and placing it into a cast iron skillet before pumping water into a large basin.
Ketil watched the large man wash the blood from his hands and the table silently. He spoke up slowly. "How long was I out?"
Kaia made a small hmmphf noise before turning to the stew that hung over the fire in a large cast iron pot. She grabbed the lid, using the edge of her dull brown dress as a pot holder. "Two days? About two days. Do you remember waking up before?"
He took a deeper breath, letting out an involuntary squeak of pain as he wrapped an arm around his middle. "It's all a blur..." he trailed off. "I don't know if it was a dream or if I was awake."
"That would make sense." Olve muttered, "you were only awake for a few minutes at a time. You kept speaking in Polarian."
"What did I say?"
"You were speaking to someone," Kaia muttered while ladling a thick stew into a wooden bowl. She focused on her task with a smaller whisper. "I believe your mother—the late Empress. The rest of the time, you were incoherent."
Ketil let out a sigh. At least he didn't spoil the Order's plans in his sleep.
Kaia straightened back up with a bowl of steaming stew. "Be careful, it's very hot. Olve, you can pour your own, yes?"
"Of course, love." The man knelt by the fire, fixing them both a bowl and standing back to his feet. He swung his hip past the bassinet, finding his way to a chair.
She lowered the bowl into his hands, placing a hand on his shoulder. The steam hit his face, warming the tip of his nose that had begun to become cold. It smelled of fish and potatoes and reeked of an old memory. He rested the bowl in his lap, his left hand grasping the brim. He carefully took a sip, his stomach turning almost immediately. He coughed a little, wincing as the soup splashed against his hand.
"Don't burn yourself," Kaia muttered in what seemed like a unconscious habit. She took a seat at the edge of the table beside Olve. "Eat slowly or you'll vomit."
He nodded, carefully pressing the spoon full of just broth to his mouth. He took a slow slip, the smell dredging up memories of silent dining rooms. Ketil could remember everything about the moment. Just after his mother had died and the funeral procession had passed. His entire family wearing full black, Aslaug sat beside him stirring her stew with disinterest.
"Father, I don't want this. This is disgusting."
"It's a tradition, Aslaug. This is the way Polarians have done it for centuries. After a death, the mourning parties don't prepare a feast and instead humble themselves with widow's stew."
"It's a stupid tradition. I don't want it." She pushed it away, "I'll get the servants to make something for us."
Father gritted his teeth in response, hands tightening around a spoon. "I don't care what you want, it's how things work."
"Father, please don't yell," Ketil whimpered. He was hollow inside, physically and emotionally numb. "Please, please don't yell."
Aslaug sighed, looking back to Ketil. "Don't you think it's a dumb tradition? Don't you think that mom would have wanted it differently, brother?"
"Aslaug please, don't."
"Mom wouldn't want us to mourn her like this," Aslaug's brows lifted, the corners of her lips twisting into the faintest hint of a smile.
Father stood, his hands pressed against the table. There were tears in his eyes as he gritted his teeth. "Young lady, you will not disobey me." He slapped his hand against the wooden table, "I am the Emperor and you will obey me and the customs of this Empire! Your mother is dead!" His father sat back down, one could see more life in a rag doll than in the Emperor.
"Oh father, you wouldn't understand about the customs. Those customs are going to kill us all." Aslaug smiled. Ketil had no idea what it meant at the time, but he would know in a few months.
He finished slowly, lifting the bowl to his lips to finish the rest of the broth. It was essentially widow's stew, but what was humbling for an Emperor and his children was the way things were for normal people. Ketil just had never thought about it before.
His mind flashed back to Raziel's speech and he stared at the wooden bowl, listening to the sounds of the quasi-silence. The fire was a constant crackling sound, from the smell he guessed it was a mixture of pine and hemlock they were burning. Outside the wind was whistling between trees and whipping against the small house.
He traced his hands along the bowl as the baby began to cry.
Kaia ignored him at first, touching her foot to the bassinet to rock it slowly. It did not appease the child inside who continued to cry. She ignored him further, going back to her meal with an exhausted look.
"What's his name?" Ketil finally whispered as the silence between them became almost unbearable.
Kaia smiled a little, caving into the pressure. She lifted the baby from the basinet, shushing him to no avail. "His name is Kaspar. Kaspar Olve Lykke."
"How old is he?"
"A little more than two months," she stood, staring into the child's face that was hidden by cloth. "Would you like to see him?"
Ketil nodded once and she sat beside him, revealing the baby in her arms. Ketil stared at the large dark eyes that stared back at him with a sense of wonder. He was cute for a baby. Ketil tilted his head a little more and the tears turned to silence and then curiosity at this newcomer. A wrinkly hand reached out at him, the eyes still staring.
He took the hand carefully, tiny fingers wrapping around his finger. He laughed a little, the motion hurting his ribs. "Nice to meet you too."
Kaia grinned. "Seems you have a fan," she ran her hands through the baby's few wispy strands of blond hair, earning a wide, toothless smile. "He's a good baby," she kissed him on the forehead, before taking him away from Ketil. "The best baby," she whispered, holding him close to her chest.
"I suppose we should apologize for the lack of sleep you'll receive while here. Kaspar has little regard for our sleep schedule." Olve shrugged a little, taking the baby from Kaia.
"I don't plan to outstay my welcome, I understand that you are both busy and the last thing you need is another mouth to feed. I have a mission anyways, but judging by the way my body feels now... I am going to need some rest."
"Oh don't worry, you are not a burden. It's not often we host a traveler and I don't believe we've ever hosted someone of your importance. The important thing is that you rest and heal. Whatever your mission is, it can wait until you heal."
Ketil made a face. "That's where you're wrong—I don't know if it can." He shook his head, muttering under his breath. "I just wish I knew where Anubis was."
ns 15.158.61.5da2
