Page 8 of Shameless

His fist slammed against the table. Rattled the dishes.

Kylar grabbed his mug of ale just in time to keep it from toppling over. “I can’t imagine why she’d say a thing like that,” he responded drily.

Haldor shot him a suspicious look. Kylar avoided meeting his eyes. He seemed intent on polishing off the last morsel of roast boar on his plate before it too risked ending up on the floor.

“Exactly,” Haldor declared. “I’ve as much of a soft side as any warrior who sits around this table. Maybe she’d prefer that I dress in a skirt and knit booties for that young one you have on the way.”

“Now there’s a sight I’d give up my place in Valhalla to see.” Kylar washed down his meal with the last mouthful of ale.

“Women are too much bother. Life was easier when I lived here in the palace and kept my rod in its sheath – except for the occasional dalliance with a willing wench during one of the festivals.”

“You speak the truth there, brother. They are a huge bother. Always hovering around you, wanting to feed you, wanting to rub your shoulders when you come home from a long day’s work. Wanting to snuggle their sweet little asses against you at night, so you have to wrap your arms around them just to keep from falling out of your own bed. Then you can’t get a decent night’s rest, what with being compelled to satisfy their ceaseless lustful desires.”

“There is that.” Haldor raised his mug. “Here’s to those lustful desires. May they never cease!”

He drained his mug and leaned forward. “You’re married to an Earther. Does she complain that you’re cold and closed off? Does she constantly want to talk about feelings?”

“You’ve got to keep in mind what their lives were like before they came here,” Kylar replied. “You’ve been there, spent time among them. Talia tells me Earth is a sterile place, devoid of joy and pain alike. If you’d spent days, years, without passion, without love and laughter, and then suddenly someone showed you how those emotions felt, you’d hunger for them too. All the time. Look at the way we act on the summer solstice, after months of cold and darkness. Romping around half-naked in the warmth of the suns…and then often fully naked later at night around the bonfire.

“I remember when Talia first arrived here,” he went on. “Everything was new to her. The color of a sunflower, the smell of real food, the taste of honey mead…” He stared off into the distance for a moment, lost in memories. “I tell you, brother, she went wild the first time she tasted honey mead.” He glanced around and lowered his voice. “Truth be told, she still does. If the gods bless me with a son, when he’s grown to a man, I’ll have to pull him aside and tell him to take care around a maiden with a flask full of mead, lest he wake up one morning and find himself with a son of his own on the way! The point is, you’ve awakened the tender, loving woman inside her along with the brazen wench. You didn’t mind taking the one. Now it’s time to man up and deal with the other.”

“Why can’t she just accept that I love her and be done with all the talk about it?”

“Do you remember when you first came to live in the palace? I woke up many a night to find my mother, Queen Astra, sitting by the side of your bed, rocking you in her arms and crooning to you. Would you have preferred on those dark lonely nights that she just expected you toknowthat you were still loved?”

“Your mother was a blessing from the gods in my life.” Haldor struggled to keep his voice steady. “She took in a broken, frightened child and cared for me as if I were her own.”

“Then, when you’re at your wit’s end to know how to deal with Selena, ask yourself… what would Astra do?”

Haldor pushed back his chair and came around the table to clap Kylar on the shoulder. “You’ve given me good counsel. It wasn’t only your mother who was a blessing in the life of that frightened little boy. Bare is his back who has no brother.”

“There now,” Kylar replied in falsetto, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “Was it so hard, showing me you love me?”

“Now it’s your turn to show me love,” Haldor growled. “You can start by kissing my ass.”

* * *

On the way home, he stopped by the plot of land he’d been given years ago by King Sigrun. The king knew him well. It suited him perfectly, far enough out of town to be a haven of peace, with a stand of pines on the north side and a rise overlooking an open meadow with a creek meandering through it.

The evergreens blocked the worst of the winter winds from the building site, and the meadow would be bursting with wildflowers all summer. On the far side of the meadow, a thicket of thorny bushes bordering the forest promised a bountiful crop of blackberries to provide the perfect finish to picnics in the sun.

He’d started building the house years ago, a few courses of stone at a time. But these last few months, since coming back to Gadolinium with Selena, he’d picked up the pace. Stealing a few hours whenever he could. Imagining bringing her here. To his house.Theirhouse. Seeing the look of delight on her face.

But the house wouldn’t be finished for months. There were still endless gray days to face before the summer suns kissed the meadow. Selena needed something now. Some tangible sign of his love.

What would Astra do? He thought back to the oft blanket of fur she’d slipped him one cold night. The queen had gone to what was left of his house, sifted through the ashes after the Tabun burned it to the ground. There was nothing left, no trace of his parents. Then she remembered a cloak his mother had left at the palace. Astra had put it aside, meaning to return it. But before she did, the Tabun invaded.

She’d taken the deep-blue wool, lined with fur, and sewn it into a small blanket. One a scared and lonely boy could curl up with for comfort. One that bore the faint traces of his mother’s scent. Haldor still had it, locked away at the bottom of a chest. An iron chest that wouldn’t burn, tucked safely under his bed.

His footsteps echoed on the stone floors as he paced through the half-finished rooms. Astra had given him a tangible sign of love. The memory of his mother, sewn into something warm and comforting by the woman who had stepped in and taken him in as her own. Reminding him that he had not one mother, but two.

He stopped in the small room tucked away at the back of the house, the only one nearly finished. He’d meant it to be his hideaway, a place he could go to for a few moments of peace, both while the house was under construction and later, when a brood of noisy children and barking dogs overran the place. In his imagination, he always saw the house filled with giggling children tumbling around on the floors, wrestling with a litter of plump furry puppies.

His room had a long window with a wide ledge, overlooking the open meadow, where he could bask in the warmth of the suns even on the coldest days of winter. In summer, the thick stone walls would keep it cool, a refuge from the heat.

Haldor sat on the ledge till darkness drove him back to town. Thinking. Planning. Dreaming.

* * *

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