Dreamsickdev

When Hafsa stepped back through the kitchen doorway, Icarion’s expression immediately brightened again. His whole demeanor changed. Just seeing her made him happy. He couldn’t help it. She was there, and amazing, and beautiful, and clever, and really cared about him, and really was his soul mate. After eons, Fate had finally allowed them to come together. How could he not be happy? She smiled back at him reflexively, but it was a tight expression. Her eyes moved over his face and then scanned over Sigyn and Thor’s expressions as well. After a moment she focused on him again. “Can we talk alone?” she asked. He n

Hafsa was staring into space. She knew she’d feel better if she slept - it usually helped when she felt drained like this. Sleep didn’t seem to come. Her body was wide awake and on alert. Idunn’s apple had given her plenty of energy to fuel her. Or at least fuel her nerves. She couldn’t stop thinking. When would her dad find out? Would Loki let something slip, and who might hear about it? Was she even anywhere in the nine realms? What if she used it as blackmail? Even if nobody knew, could she stay a Valkyrie in good conscience? She was compromised, wasn’t she? Her loyalty could be questioned. Any of her chosen h

Icarion was talking in an earnest tone when she woke up, though to her hazy mind the words sounded like nonsense. She opened her eyes, which still felt heavy, and saw Flavia was busy mixing some kind of powders in a jar. He was sitting on the edge of the bed next to hers. His back was to her, but she could imagine his expression. He usually looked a little weary, a little worried, and tried to smile regardless. Only twice had she seen him truly angry. And lately, he had this goofy grin when he looked at her, which he was no good at hiding despite clear attempts. After concentrating, she realized he was speaking in English after all. He seemed

Hafsa saw how he stumbled on the last step when he was coming down the stairs, the way he fumbled to catch himself with a palm against the wall. Under the morning light, the shadows under his eyes seemed deeper, the skin on his cheeks thin as paper. The light seemed to shine right through his ever-flickering hair, turning the red-gold strands to white. She turned her eyes back down to the stained and scratched surface of the kitchen table. They had found enough usable furnishing for the old manor, thanks to Flavia and her sister-in-law Flora. Their flat above the flower shop had the opposite problem, too many empty chairs and beds. It was no