11. Resolution

He finds her standing on the edge of the garden, contemplating going further, one bare foot pressed against the rough ground that lies just outside the garden's boundaries. He catches her arm, a smirk on his mouth. "Have they found a way for Theoric to marry you after all?"

She smiles but she does not look at him. She would not have him see her like this, such a miserable pale figure with reddening eyes. "And if they did?"

He is quiet before making his inquiry, quite serious. "You wouldn't marry a fish would you?"

And then it is her turn to hesitate and this makes him nervous. "Yes, I would," she says. And his heart drops, the guilt from before rising in his throat. "But," she adds, a mischievous smile on her lips, "only if it were you."

He wraps his arms around her, pulling her away from the point of leaving. He kisses her cheek, wishing that she might look at him. Yet she is still in his arms and it only drives him further into a pit of dread. He doesn't like to see her this way. The way she keeps her hands still at her side, her chin down. He had seen the symptoms of this when he had married her. Past the fake smile had been eyes filled with regret, a body resigning to marriage as she made promises that she would keep for eternity.

And then he knows. Because he knows her, he's had years to learn her mind, her speech and her actions. He won't let her go, afraid that she'll leave, that this is the final blow for her.

"I didn't know," he says, arms tight around her shoulders, holding her close to him. "And when-." He stops there, unable to drag the sentence further no matter how the words string together. His voice is quiet, emotion in it that is so unlike him. "I couldn't tell you."

Her hand touches his, cold fingers traipsing over a cold hand. "I know," she says because she honestly does. It is his way to be secretive and withholding information. Often, though, it is meant to hurt the other person yet she believes he was genuinely concerned, never intending to hurt anyone.

"Forgive me?" The question is a whisper that just barely falls off his tongue.

She turns in his arms, kissing him. She smiles at him and the heaviness in his chest is lifted. He clutches her, a twinge of fear striking him, that she might turn and break free of him and leave him after all, but she rests her head against his chest.

And he is thankful, glad to bear the criticism, the outrage and the suspicion that follows him for marrying her. He pulls away from her when he realizes how cold she is. Keeping his arm around her shoulders, he guides her back inside with her leaning against him.

"I didn't think you'd notice I had left," she says softly.

"I was cold."

They agree not to tell her. Though, it is more of his suggestion than hers. He thinks it will keep them happier, maybe allow Sigyn to realize her initial vision of them as a family. She agrees not to tell after making him promise that he will try harder, much harder she emphasizes, to bond with the girl. He promises, seeing a look of fear in her eyes, fear that he might forsake the girl.

"And you will always consider her your own?" He asks suddenly, turning the question on her. "Even if we have other children?"

"Of course," she says, taken aback. He sees the wonder in her eyes, the perplexed expression at being questioned. He knows that he's most likely asking the wrong person, she had showed compassion for the child from the beginning whereas he, he had not. Yet, there is a method to his madness.

He touches her face. "I have to know that my daughter will have a mother's love."

"Our daughter," she corrects and he smiles, kissing her.

"How do you like raising a child?" Dagmar asks. The mousy haired woman leans on her elbows, staring at Sigyn from across the table.

"It's strange but I enjoy it."

"Be glad that they can tell you what they need rather than just cry." Dagmar rubs her temples, eyes squeezed shut. "And cry. And cry."

"Of course." She forces a little smile to grace her lips. She turns to avoid Dagmar's blue eyes, looking back over at where Hel plays with Dagmar's children. The child manages to join in without much struggle. Sigyn smiles, slightly relieved that the child is beginning to make friends.

"I still think it's a pity though."

Her gaze snaps back to Dagmar. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you've had to adopt a child. There's no guarantee that you'll have your own children. At least with Theoric, you would have had a family. I mean, I realize you are expected to have his children but." Her nose crinkles, disturbed at the idea of a troubled man having children who would turn out just as troubled.

"Forgive me, but I fail to see where this concerns you."

"I am your friend."

"And a very kind friend, but I would prefer that such personal matters remain personal."

"Of course." She lets her eyes fall to the table between them while Sigyn looks back at the children. Dagmar lays her hand over Sigyn's, drawing back her attention. "I think she'll be all right with them. She's better than she was before." Dagmar beams at Sigyn. "I think you're a wonderful mother to her."

author's note: Thank you very much for all of your encouraging words on this piece. I will continue updating as life and novel let me.