7. Evening

The first time that he leaves without notice, Hel is surprised. Her little eyes scan Sigyn who is calm, smiling even. "But he's gone," Hel says, standing before her adopted mother, as though the words did not sink in the first time.

"And he'll come back," she says reassuringly, bringing the child to her lap, her small legs swinging, unable to touch the ground from the bench.

"How can you be sure?"

"Because he always comes back."

Hel leans against Sigyn, frowning as she considers this. "Is this why she doesn't like him?" It is certainly a reason for Hel to add to her shortening dislike list. To have someone who will just leave in the morning, not telling where they're going and not telling when they will come back is frustrating in Hel's eyes.

"No, dear. Arnbjorg does not care for him because of something else." She hugs the child, the two of them staring out across the secluded gardens, a favorite to both of them.

"Why then?"

"That's a story for another time." The smile remains on her face. Arnbjorg had simply stood in the doorway, face reddening when she spied him kissing her charge. The woman had sputtered, hands waving as she approached them. He'd cooly looked at her, telling her that he was just leaving and she, her mind assuming the worst, had demanded that he promise he would marry Sigyn. He had remained in the doorway and told her he would do no such thing. And then he'd left and she had turned to the auburn haired girl and began to shriek, demanding answers.

Hel crossed her arms. "Not even a hint?"

"Well, it is how I know that he'll always come back."

The child tilted her head. "That doesn't make sense."

"He doesn't simply make promises to anyone," she explains, wrapping her arm around the child's shoulders. "That bothered Arnbjorg."

It had taken time for him to make a promise to her. Careful years of occasionally speaking, turned to years of being lovers without the guarantee that they would always be together. He had tested the limits of her love, trying to find the line that he would one day inevitably cross. He had shouted, left her for extended periods of time and showed her more and more of who he was. Each time he had waited for her wrath, her denial so that he might finally see who she truly was. Yet, she always waited and came back.

Once he had returned wounded, refused treatment, and she had found him, and despite his ordering her away, had helped heal him. He had kissed her and that night had given her his promise that he would always come back to her. It was his way to repay her consistency and love. Marriage had never been an assurance and Sigyn had accepted that. Marriage had only crossed his mind when he realized that he was losing her to another man.

"Why?"

"Because she expected him to make a promise on the spot and he refused." She runs her fingers through the child's hair, noticing her drifting in and out of sleep. "He doles such things out sparingly which was you can always trust him to keep a promise."

Hel understands this, accepts it and allows it to be fair enough reason to strike the last item from reasons why to dislike him.

That evening, Sigyn puts Hel to bed, telling her a story before leaving the child alone. Hel waits before slipping from bed and going to their room. She quietly sneaks in, hiding by a chair. Sigyn lays in bed and to Hel it seems she is unfazed by his disappearance. Refusing to leave her alone, Hel sits down, focusing her gaze onto Sigyn.

She doesn't doubt his promise, she repeats that in her mind. If Sigyn will put faith in that promise, so can she, but she doesn't care that he's left her kind mother alone. She can't understand why he could do such a thing or why Sigyn would allow it without complaint.

As her vigil drags on, she slumps into the chair, promising that she still won't sleep until she knows he's back and Sigyn isn't alone. Yet, her body conforms to the chair and she sinks into sleep, assuring herself that she's only closing her eyes for a few seconds.

He returns late in the night, not expecting Sigyn to be waiting for him. His eyes flicker to the small form curled in the chair. Stepping over, he laughs at the child, contorted to sleep in the chair. He doesn't wonder why she's there, sure that he cannot fathom what would drive a child from bed to a chair. He debates leaving her there but decides that she would be better in her own bed. Taking her slowly into his arms, he carries her from their room.

When she begins to wake, realizing she's fallen asleep, she notices she's being carried. A glance up from sleep filled eyes reveals he's returned. She lets herself fall back asleep, content that Sigyn won't be alone.

He lays her in her bed, bringing the sheet around her before leaving. He returns to where Sigyn is, changing before getting into bed. She smiles when he pulls her towards him. "You're not surprised," he says when she lays her head against his chest.

"I trust you."

"She was here," he says, playing with her loose curls. "Sleeping over there."

"She was worried earlier."

"About?"

"If you would come back."

He's quiet, considering it. "Silly girl," he says finally. Yet, the doubt she had bothers him.