ATTENTION!
If you are sensible to certain triggers please read the notes at the end of the chapter for warnings. I do not want to post them up here to spoil anyone, but PLEASE. If you know that certain themes may be bad for your mental health, read below.
Edvard's absence was immediately felt by everybody. Sigurd was even more silent than usual, whether this be because Edvard had left them, or because a certain horse became ill again. Berwald and Tino didn't stay longer after dinner, Peter was immensely bored and Søren was left without his support and with a task he didn't want to fulfil. And so, he threw himself back into work.
He helped where he could, worked on the bond of trust between him and his horses, did the mental exercises Sigurd told him about weeks ago, went through the library in the living room and began to read all the books about rider's and horse's psychology, horsemanship, biographies of people who had similar experiences, about techniques of jumping and dressage. He noticed how he was more focused, how Sigurd said less and less during their lessons, how he jumped higher and more difficult lines. How he left the arena smiling more often.
And then one morning everything was frozen and Sigurd declared that they'd celebrate Halloween this year. For Peter and one of the guests who wanted to celebrate his birthday.
"It won't be anything special. But we'll decorate the house, prepare Halloween-ish food, get a lot of sweets and for the adults some drinks."
Peter's eyes immediately shined in excitement and he grinned.
"Lots of sweets! And costumes! I want to be a Nøkk just like in your stories!" He showed his teeth and made a hissing noise. Søren laughed at that and ruffled Peter's hair since he was seated right beside him this time.
"You'll be one scary Nøkk." He got another hiss as an answer.
"How many guests are going to be there?" Berwald asked, already making plans in his head what and how much he'd have to prepare and when to start with it.
Søren didn't follow the discussion as his mind drifted away. He was transfixed how Sigurd's lips moved. Went from relaxed, to a thin line when he hummed, then moved, opened, smiled and relaxed again. They were chapped from the cold but surely so soft. A hand pushed some hair from Sigurd's face, dark eyes blinked at him and looked then straight back into Søren's.
"Søren?"
Søren snapped back and shook his head ever so slightly and smiled then at Sigurd.
"What?"
"Berwald asked you whether you want to go to town with him to help buy the groceries and decorations, or not."
"Oh." Søren blushed and nodded at Berwald. "Sure thing. When should we go?"
"I'd say Thursday. Some food won't be durable, so we'll have to buy everything the day before."
"Alrighty," Søren smiled and when he noticed that everyone was done with their meal he got up and started piling up the plates and carried them to the kitchen.
Once out of sight from the others he exhaled deeply. What was he thinking staring like that at Sigurd? At least in a way that everybody else could see it. He filled the dishwasher with the plates and jumped when someone beside him threw the cutlery in it.
"You almost drooled," said Tino and chuckled.
Søren's blush returned, harder than before.
"Was it that obvious?" he said, accepting his fate.
"For me it was," Tino said and smiled knowingly. "If I were you, I'd try to avoid staring so much if you want to keep it a secret."
"And what if I don't want it to be a secret?" he mumbled when Tino was walking back to the others.
"What?" Tino turned around again and looked questioningly at him but Søren just shook his head.
"Nothing."
Søren and Sigurd made their way through the lightened-up darkness for the last control on the pastures. They walked silently side by side, one hand in a pocket, the other holding a flashlight. They passed the first two, counted the horses, checked the water and made then their way to the third and last one.
"What were you thinking about tonight, Søren?" Sigurd asked eventually as they entered through the third gate and walked to the wooden structure that served the horses as a shelter against the bad weather.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"You were staring at me but you didn't listen to what we said. Is something on your mind?"
"Oh…" Søren said, blushed and scoffed. "Nothing."
"Sure?"
"Sure."
"Because I was thinking Søren and-" Sigurd cut himself off. "Shit, that's not good."
The light cone of his flashlight fell on a horse that was laying far away from the herd. Its head was directed towards the two of them and it made a soft noise, as if it had awaited the two of them. A second horse stood close and watched the two as well. Sigurd marched towards the two horses and the light cone seemed to tremble more and more with every metre Sigurd got closer. Søren followed him after having closed the gate after him.
"Hey, Frigga," Sigurd said in the most affectionate voice Søren had ever heard. The Norwegian kneeled down beside the horse. He remembered Sigurd showing her to him, explaining that it was his first horse. And that she was therefore old. Very old for a horse. It was also the horse that repeatedly got ill due to her age. And now this horse was laying on the cold ground, away from the herd, accompanied only by another mare. The death guardian.
Søren stood right behind Sigurd and bit his lip.
"Should I call the vet?"
Sigurd stroked over Frigga's head and nodded.
"Please."
When Søren returned from the main house, Hákon was already with his brother on the pasture. An oil lamp was placed beside them and Hákon sat huddled in his big winter jacket, wearing bonnet and gloves, beside Sigurd. The second horse had joined the herd again and Frigga was alone now. Her head rested on Sigurd's lap and only the rising and sinking of her side could tell Søren that she was still alive.
He was as silent as the two others when he wrapped a warm blanket around Sigurd's shoulders and sat on Sigurd's other side. He sat down another bonnet and gloves for Sigurd to take on, as well as a hot-water bottle. In the background he could hear the heard. How they stomped from time to time, moved around. An owl called through the night and their breaths formed yellow clouds in the warm light the oil lamp provided them with.
"Hákon, could you please leave Søren and me alone?" Sigurd said at one point, exhausted, anxious and knowing full well that he was not fair.
"Why?" asked Hákon indignantly and looked at Sigurd with a thousand questions on his face.
"I want to tell him."
Søren looked between the two and his heart beat faster. What did Sigurd want to tell him? In such a sad scene? And he was reminded again how he hated such situations and he felt that this was hardly the time for arguing with him in the middle of it.
"Tell him? Now?!" Hákon asked unbelieving.
"Yes. Now." Sigurd said harshly and glared at Hákon. A glare he couldn't keep up for long. "Please, Hákon."
Hákon hesitated, looked at the two in front of him and at Frigga.
"Just let me first say good-bye too," he murmured and leaned forward. Slowly he stroked over that formerly so strong neck. Tears rolled over his cheeks and he buried his face shortly into her soft fur. He mumbled something Søren couldn't quite make out, but he swore Hákon thanked her. After that Hákon took a long last look at her before he got up and turned away.
Sigurd and Søren watched him leave the pasture before the Norwegian looked at Søren, then back at Frigga. He trailed over the features of her head as he spoke.
"She gives me strength even now. And I need to use it as long as I still can, to tell you." Sigurd took a shuddering breath.
"I'm listening," Søren said, his mind empty of anything else than Sigurd. Said sighed and began his story.
"I was lucky enough to come from a family that managed to support my love for horses. All I did was training, reading, caring for my horses and working for school. I was successful in competitions and quickly climbed the ranks.
So my parents used their influence to get me placed in a top stable in the Netherlands with International riders, top horses and the possibility to become a professional. I still had to attend school and after that begin my studies. But all was laid out for the future of my dreams.
The day I arrived at that stable was like a daydream. I was just seventeen years old and it was all so exciting and frightening with all those new people and the high standards. And just when I returned from bringing Frigga to her box, who I was allowed to keep despite her not fitting that stable at all, I saw him."
He smiled fondly at the horse and Søren had a gut turning feeling that all of this sounded too perfect indeed. But he was silent and listened.
"Alexander was the handsome prodigy from Germany. He was popular, savvy, talented and handsome. He smiled at me, asked me who I was and I blushed hard, forgot my name and where I came from. But he just laughed it off and showed me around.
The following weeks were hard. I had troubles getting friends, the new school, getting used to the horses, to the new and harsher schedule. But he was there for me, always offered me a smile, asked how I was and helped me with all the questions I had.
I felt like no match to him, asked myself why he even talked to me. The one who casually flirted with the grooms, who joked around with the coach and was just perfect.
I crushed hard on him and slowly, over the months he must have noticed. Because one evening when we celebrated the birthday of our coach he asked me to follow him outside. We both had some beers in our system, so I felt confident enough for anything.
Outside he told me that he liked me, that he noticed how I maybe liked him back and that he'd love to taste my lips. I could only muster a shy and stuttering yes before I had my first kiss ever."
Sigurd sighed. "Back then I didn't care that he was a few years older, too experienced for me. I should have known already when he told me, that we should keep our homosexual relationship hidden. That he feared that people would judge us, that it would hinder our careers and that sponsors would draw back. Which was utter bullshit. But I was naïve, young and too over the moon that he had kissed me and so I believed what he said."
Sigurd braided Frigga's hair as he talked, undid it again and avoided to look at Søren. Even in the poor lighting Søren could make out the tenseness of the other's face and he didn't need to touch his shoulders to know they would be hard and unrelaxed. No, this surely was bullshit what that Alexander had told Sigurd but Sigurd had already taken 'bullshit' out of Søren's mouth.
"And then?" Søren asked quietly.
"Then we were together. Happily, as I can say even now. As he promised me we started slow with just innocent kisses in between when no one saw us, hanging out in each other's room, cuddling. Slowly our kisses turned sultrier, our touches travelled more but every time before we got more serious he broke off and told me that we'd have to wait for my eighteenth birthday. It drove me crazy and I asked myself how he could keep it together."
Sigurd huffed and his lips turned in a scoff smile. "Now I know." He shook his head. "Anyways. He was my only real friend there and was at the same time my boyfriend. So I relied on him for pretty much anything. Hákon lived a thousand kilometres away after all and all my other friends stopped contacting me as school and riding took so much of my time."
"And Edvard?" Søren asked.
"He was not a regular yet. Only came for clinics. We greeted once or twice maybe. But since he wasn't very talkative himself we didn't get close.
So instead I worked my ass off and became better. In the mean time I celebrated my eighteenth birthday and the same night Alexander followed me to my room and was very gentle with me. I will never forget these warm and brown eyes looking at me when I stripped for him. Or his voice telling me what to do. I was completely his.
And from then on we'd have sex regularly. As I became accustomed with it and knew what was going on I discovered his kink. He'd take me everywhere. In my room, his room, the toilet of a bar we visited, the forest when we were on a hack, the tack room…"
Heat bubbled in Søren's stomach up to his chest and it was not of the good kind. Nothing against risky outdoor sex but the way Sigurd told the story, how tense he was, what picture he got from Alexander… And amidst this anger he felt frozen in fear. Fear for Sigurd.
"On competitions I started to catch up on Alexander's experience. I began to start in the same classes as him and soon he didn't have any tips or lessons for me left, even if he still liked to teach me. And one day I surpassed him.
The day I was better than him in a class he was silent. He led me back to our trailer, locked the door and took me from behind without saying a word. I was willing to let him ride out his frustration and disappointment. This routine followed with each lesson that went better for me than him, every show I won, every time he fell off a horse. He was rough, unloving and I took it for him, thinking it helped to get over the negative emotions."
Søren wanted to take Sigurd's hand so badly but he was shaking himself in anger and self-realisation. Would he have become the same if he only had stayed long enough in the toxic environment?
He had been an ass to Laura in any case, only thinking about himself, about having to be the best, forgetting almost to love her. Would he have done the same? But before he could guess any further Sigurd already continued.
"The more the negative spiral progressed, the more Frigga behaved violently towards Alexander. She didn't tolerate him anymore, bit and kicked at him, pushed herself between me and him. I wondered what was happening, read and educated myself on that weird behaviour but ignored all the warning signs.
Yet I still became more interested in the psychological aspects of horses and discovered horsemanship for me. With Frigga by my side I could try everything out. From ground work without any help, to riding without tack, to the roots of classical dressage to understand a horse's mind and how mindfulness helped me and my riding.
I noticed how I even got better through the new experiences, despite some fellow riders joking at my practices. Some were interested and most of them just shrugged their shoulders.
With exception to one person. Edvard had problems getting along with his horse and as he loved it to bits despite its difficult character he turned desperately to me whom he saw one evening working with Frigga.
I agreed and that was the start of our friendship. With a lot of work and patience we managed to help him and his horse. All the while I was getting worse."
Sigurd's face grew even more grim. "Alexander barely talked to me anymore, and I felt used. I was overworked, tired and lonely. One evening I wanted to talk with him about it and went to his room. But he didn't react to my knocking as loud music was playing. So I opened the door and saw him fucking our newest groom. She was moaning and begging and he kissed her silent, telling her how beautiful she was."
Søren blinked, was speechless and felt no feeling of affirmation that Alexander truly was the asshole he thought him to be. He just felt bad for Sigurd and reached out for him. He took slowly, softly his hand that was clenched beside of Frigga's head. The fist relaxed, opened and held Søren's hand back.
Mustering strength from Frigga's warmth and Søren's touch Sigurd continued. Quietly now, voice suppressing the anger, the disappointment, the sadness and fright.
"The next day I waited for him the tack room as I usually did when I knew he needed to let out his frustration on me. It was a particularly bad day but I didn't feel bad for him. I fell off my horse too because my mind was too distracted. I hurt my shoulder and then a professor at the university denounced me and my inattentiveness in front of everyone else."
"As he entered he could barely close the door behind him when I already began conjuring up hell. Asked him if he had enjoyed last night's fuck, if I was really only his sex doll and if he wanted to end our relationship he should have just said something.
First he tried to explain himself, told me he had flirted with the groom to not let the rumour spread that he was in a homosexual relationship with me and that it then escalated.
But for the first time I didn't want any of his excuses. When he noticed that I was really furious, that I had grown more confident the past months thanks to my mental work for my horsemanship and me having become hard and cold thanks to heart break and loneliness, he locked the door."
"No," whispered Søren and terror instilled itself in his heart. He held that trembling hand tightly but comforting.
"He stepped closer, tried to comfort me, told me it was a one-time mistake. But all I could see was red and so I slapped him. He came back at me with a hit in my face and then tried to turn me around. When I struggled against him he pushed on the shoulder I hurt myself on from the fall and I had to obey. He then was quick with bending me over the big metal sink."
Sigurd bit his lip hard, fought visibly with himself and Søren stayed patient. Despite everything in him revolting. He wanted to scream, to beat that asshole to a pulp, to wrap Sigurd in a thousand blankets and tell him that everything was alright. Sigurd's voice was quiet, trembling and his cheeks glinted treacherously.
"It hurt. Much more than I could have ever imagined and I was like frozen. I couldn't move, I couldn't make a sound. I couldn't fight him off and I couldn't cry. All I can remember are fragments. The burning, the marks he beat into me, the smell of the metal and leather, his rhythmic grunting and his breath on my neck. His insults."
Sigurd shivered, shut his eyes and lowered his head. A suppressed sob let his whole body shudder. Søren scooped closer, stroked with his thumb gently over the interlocked hand.
"You don't have to continue," he said but Sigurd shook his head.
"When Alexander was finished he ordered me to keep silent or he'd tell everyone how I was a stalker an liar and he'd make sure I'd get kicked out. And that was the official end. Alexander ignored me from then on and I kept silent. That was until I met Edvard again."
"He knew immediately that something was wrong. Not only reacted his horse different to my signals but I guess my own behaviour was enough give away, despite the blue marks having almost disappeared.
I couldn't keep it in anymore, told him everything. He urged me to go to the police, to tell my parents, to tell my coach.
I told my parents, Edvard by my side. They were shocked, asked me if I was sure, if I was hurt, since when I was gay. And then they tried to hush it down as soon as I said that I wasn't in hospital. My father was in question for a huge job deal and they didn't want a scandal disturbing the perfect family picture and white vest we had.
At least they proposed that I could move back up to them, to Bergen. That was when Edvard ended the call for me by shouting "assholes" and pressing the red button. He had understood that much Norwegian." At that Sigurd's lips managed to lift some.
"He offered me to live with him for a while. He lived closer to the city in his own apartment and I agreed. He asked a friend of his if I could relocate Frigga to a much friendlier and smaller stable and the same day I packed my few belongings and slept on the couch at Edvard's. I had a long talk with Hákon. At least my parents had the courtesy of telling him what had happened.
The next morning we got Frigga and my riding stuff. I said good bye to the horses I had trained with. But before I left for good I wanted everyone to know who Alexander was. Even if they wouldn't believe my message, no matter how well Alexander could talk himself out of it and no matter that they would banish me for good from that stable."
"Edvard and I snuck at night back in and decorated Alexander's door with some messages and pictures of men convicted of the same charges Alexander had followed in the footsteps of. We did the same to the boxes of his horses, made old school graffitis, telling everybody on the parking lot, that here lived the greatest asshole and predator, Alexander. It felt good and that night was the first night in months I slept well."
Sigurd sighed tiredly, wiped with his free hand over his face.
"Frigga and Edvard helped me through that difficult time. I was done with the toxic environment and needed to take my mind off. And as I was used to training every day, I continued with that to not fall into a hole I feared I couldn't find out of anymore. I took lessons in horsemanship from all the teachers available in the surroundings. I saw a therapist, continued on my university degree and helped people who had problems with their horses. Hákon was the mediator between our parents and me. He made them pay for all of my expenses and for the therapist. He visited whenever he could."
"I'm glad Edvard and Hákon were there for you," Søren said. All that jealousy, that envy… It felt so stupid now and he wished he could have had behaved and felt different. But now he understood. His eyes fell on Frigga, whose breaths got shallower. She was waiting for Sigurd. "And I'm glad you had Frigga by your side who tried to protect you, loved you, and helped you through it."
Sigurd nodded silently. "I wouldn't have made it without her," he said trembling. "I have been with her every day. Or rather she had been with me. She taught me so much, we grew up together and then she continued to…" Sigurd sobbed. "I feel her love every day. She was and still is my best friend." Tears rolled now freely over his cheek. He bent down and layed his head on Frigga's.
"Thank you." He sobbed again, let go of Søren's hand and wrapped his arms instead around Frigga's heavy head. "Thank soyu for your love. Thank you for everything," he said muffled into her fur in the dialect Søren barey understood. His voice broke, his body was shaking and trembling and Søren couldn't hear anything else than the despairing and sorrowful cries of a heartbroken man.
Frigga stopped moving, breathing. Her wait for Sigurd was over and her last strength had vanished from her body. It was as if time stood still. The night was clear, there was no cloud, the stars shone cold from the night sky and nothing moved around them. Eventually Søren wrapped an arm around Sigurd and held him close. He ran his fingers through that soft silvery hair and whispered what he hoped were soothing things to Sigurd.
Søren couldn't tell how much time had passed when Sigurd finally lifted his head again from Frigga. His eyes were puffy, his nose ran but he made quick process of it and just wiped with the wool blanket over his face. He took a deep breath of the cool night air and looked up at the stars.
"No point sitting here, when Frigga is carrying a Valkyrie in the sky now," he said quietly and turned to Søren. He just nodded and offered him a soft smile.
"She'll be the best steed a Valkyrie could wish for, from the best warrior horse trainer I know."
Sigurd simply nodded and got up, too exhausted even to groan from his aching joints.
"You said the Vet organised the transport?" Sigurd asked, trying to tiredly put on a mask of professionality but failing entirely.
"Yes. Don't think about it now though," Søren said and stroked over Sigurd's back. "Let's warm up again first, alright?"
Sigurd closed his eyes and sighed. "Alright."
Søren walked closely at Sigurd's side and when the entered the house again he hung up their jackets in the entry and put the gloves and bonnets aside. Hákon tip toed out of the living room when he heard the door closing, walked silently over to Sigurd and hugged him without either of them saying a word.
Søren disappeared into the kitchen, feeling that Hákon and Sigurd would need time for themselves. Instead he prepared hot cocoa, found some chocolate, quickly washed Sigurd's favourite mug so he could use it right away and put everything on a tablet.
The two of them had in the meantime moved to the living room where they sat silently beside each other on the couch. Søren put the tablet down on the low table in front of them and handed each of them a mug. Both muttered a "thank you", in the same exact voice. Søren settled in an old but very comfortable arm chair and wrapped his hands around his mug.
A look on the clock on the wall told him that it was two in the morning. Tomorrow would be a long and exhausting day. New guests arrived as it would be a Sunday and they'd have to check their riding skills, show them around, horses had to be trained and moved, and fed and cleaned. The renderer would arrive early tomorrow.
Søren looked into that sorrowful face that seemed to have had aged 10 years in the last hours. He saw the circles under his eyes. The slumped down shoulders and the red nose.
"If you don't mind Sigurd, I can take care of the guests tomorrow. And the horses."
Sigurd lifted his head, his expression lagging a second behind, as his mind was too full of other thoughts to comprehend.
"It's too much, Søren," he started declining but Søren would have none of it.
"I can't take your lessons, no. I'm no mountain wizard. But I can train the horses scheduled for tomorrow and show the guests around. And Hákon can help me checking on the riding skills of them, right?"
Hákon furrowed his brows but it only took one look at his brother and he nodded.
"Yeah. You need to rest. If you still feel up for it tomorrow you can give the lessons but the rest Søren and I can handle."
"Exactly. You need the rest," Søren added and offered Sigurd one of his goofy no-problem-this-is-going-to-be-alright-and-I-try-my-best smiles.
Sigurd exhaled deeply and looked down at his cocoa.
"Thank you."
Trigger warnings: Abusive relationship, retelling an act of rape, animal death
