***TW: Mention of child loss; post-traumatic stress***
Eirson scrubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes as he sat in the Great Hall for the evening meal. Today had been a bit overwhelming to say the least. After Hiccup's more than generous offer, the argument with the Berkian, and avoiding Zephyr all day, he was a bit exhausted. And now he had to sit and keep an eye on his elders in case the Berkian or his buddies decided to try for round two.
Not that he necessarily minded that part; he knew they needed to eat. It wasn't that he was upset with his elders, but he was definitely still pissed off at the way the Berkian had spoken to them earlier. He almost hoped he'd come around and try to start something again. Eirson was in the mood to knock someone out.
He flinched. That wasn't something he was used to thinking, used to feeling. He had never been a violent person. But the last few days (weeks? How long had it been?) he found himself feeling more and more hostile. He didn't like it. He felt so... So different, so foreign to himself. I'm fact, he hadn't felt like himself since he sailed back home from New Berk after Zephyr's birthday.
Zephyr told him that was okay. Zephyr told him he'd seen so many horrible things, it was okay to feel the way he did: scared, confused, frustrated, empty… Different… Zephyr said no one could blame him for that.
He trusted Zephyr. But he knew Zephyr was still young. And maybe she didn't yet know how cruel people could be, how much they expected of young Viking men and what they should be capable of, what they should be able to handle. Hell, Eirson wasn't much older, and he was only just now learning some of it.
Then again, now that he thought about it, he would give anything to make sure Zephyr didn't learn the way he had to.
A slight and frail figure carefully sat next to Eirson, clutching a bowl of hot food and frantically looking around the Great Hall. Eirson's heart ached. "Hello, Nanna," he kindly greeted the woman. "Did you get enough to eat?"
She glanced at Eirson for a split second and nodded before looking back around the room.
He sighed to himself. Nanna was such a sweet woman, and one of the few who had always supported Eirson's place in the tribe without question. But given her past, he wasn't surprised to see her so guarded now. She'd been stabbed in the back and betrayed one too many times. It was part of the reason she ended up on Outcast to begin with. And now the only island she'd been able to call her own, the tribe that took her in as family without question, was nearly extinct.
Eirson was filled with rage all over again. Those Berkians trying to keep her and the others from eating, denying them basic needs despite having done nothing, blaming them for things they couldn't control… it was exactly how her original tribe had treated her after she had attempted to heal that poor sick infant.
Eirson slid closer to Nanna and placed a gentle hand on her back. "It's okay, Nanna, go ahead and eat. I'll keep watch for you. You didn't do anything wrong. They won't hurt you as long as I'm here." He smiled warmly at her to emphasize his sentiment.
Nanna looked at him and relaxed a little. She patted his knee. "You were always such a sweet boy, Eirson," she said before hunching over her meal and happily eating.
"Thanks, Nanna," he said, trying to ignore how weak her voice was when she spoke, or how fragile her body felt when he touched her. She did not handle the trips well. She didn't look ill, thank the gods. Eirson just prayed it stayed that way. She wouldn't survive if she fell victim to sickness.
That is, if the stress didn't get to her first. Even with Eirson watching over her, she couldn't fully relax. He couldn't blame her; she had been banished from her original tribe under false accusations, and no doubt was afraid the same would happen here. She'd been through enough loss and heartache in her life, she'd looked death in the eyes far too many times. She didn't deserve anymore of it.
He glanced back to the corner of the Hall where the majority of the rest of his tribe still was. With at least half of the refugee Outcasts being elderly, they still weren't strong enough to move very much. Keeping them in the Hall kept them warm and ensured they wouldn't have to venture far for food, and made caring for them easier for Tuffnut. The young women were helpful, many of them taking quite an interest in Tuffnut's abilities as well, which inclined Tuffnut to make them sort of a force of unofficial apprentices. They stayed with the elders and made sure they were taken care of, and ran to get Tuffnut or Ruffnut if anything serious happened. The children also stayed close to the women and elders, as they didn't recognize anyone else. The elders obviously enjoyed watching and playing with the children when they could, so Eirson saw no need in making the children stay anywhere else. The young men (mostly just sailing apprentices, though Eirson recognized one as a blacksmith apprentice and one who was supposed to begin his scribing apprenticeship before… Everything…) were out around the village doing whatever Hiccup needed help with, something Eirson requested of them as a thank you to Hiccup for saving them. The young men hadn't objected even once.
He sighed. He wished he could do more, but he didn't know what else to do. He was afraid his tribe would think he wasn't doing enough. He knew he wasn't around them as often as he should be. He knew they expected him to act as their chief. He just… He just-
A bowl appeared in front of him with a quiet tap, followed by a spoon plopping into the stew inside of it.
Eirson looked up to find Zephyr walking away while pointing at the bowl and ordering, "Eat."
He grimaced. So much for avoiding her.
Nanna chuckled. "That one's a spitfire. Just like her granddad."
Eirson sighed. "Yes she is."
It wasn't that Eirson was avoiding Zephyr specifically. He more so just wanted to avoid everyone. Unfortunately Astrid put a stop to that when he frightened her in the woods. He supposed he was kinda glad about it though after the scene they stumble on in the Hall; Astrid didn't need to be breaking up fights while pregnant. He absolutely believed she could, he just didn't believe she should. But now that things seemed to have calmed down, he just wanted to run away again. Away from the anger and sadness and hostility… Away from all the eyes watching his every move…
"She'd make a good wife, you know. Toughen you up a bit."
"Nanna!" Eirson choked. His cheeks reddened. He awkwardly chuckled. "You can't just say stuff like that."
"Sure I can. When you're as old as me, you don't give a shit what people think." She sipped her soup innocently. "Besides, you're both heirs. It's meant to be."
Eirson rolled his eyes. "I've never been one for politics."
"I know. Your father told me so." She chuckled, a sound that had strong roots in her chest but weakened to a slight rush of air by the time it reached her lips. "He worried it would scare you from the job."
Eirson didn't have anything to say to that.
Eirson caught her smiling to herself. "You look at that young lady the way my late husband used to look at me."
Eirson flinched. "No offense, Nanna, but I don't know if I like being compared to him."
Nanna laughed. "He loved me back then. He truly did."
Eirson bit his tongue. Her "late husband" had left her after she had lost her fifth child before it had been born. She had lost every child she managed to conceive. Most died before their birth; one died four days after. Her husband had grown sick of waiting for an heir. Eirson didn't think that sounded much like love.
"Don't judge him too harshly. Parents cannot be held liable for the things they do after losing a child," Nanna chided. "At least he never called me a seidr like the rest of the tribe."
"Yeah, well he didn't defend you when they banished you either," Eirson bit back.
He could feel Nanna freeze beside him, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her. The bitter taste of his words embedded itself in his tongue. He didn't like the way it felt.
He sighed. "Nanna, I'm sorry, I-"
"Grief is an incredible force," she said. Eirson took that as his cue to shut up. "And losing someone you love is the greatest source of grief there is." A fragile hand laid on his arm. "Do you know why that is?"
Eirson shook his head.
"It leaves a hole, Eirson, deep within you. And you cannot truly heal until you find a way to fill that hole. The deeper the bond, the deeper the hole."
"I can't replace my father, Nanna," he whispered.
"You're right, you can't. And it wouldn't fill the hole anyway."
Eirson scrubbed his head. "But you just said-"
"Ah ah ah," she said, wagging a finger at him. "It's not so simple. The person isn't what filled the hole. The person gave you something that completed you, or losing them took something vital away from you. Do you understand?"
As much as he tried, he couldn't quite put the pieces together.
Nanna smiled with understanding. "When my husband left me, I lost the one man I could always trust. The day we married, he promised he would never leave me. He broke that promise. He broke my trust."
Eirson closed his eyes. "Keldon gave you someone to trust again."
Nanna patted his arm. "Exactly. I never married him, because he would never replace my husband. But he fulfilled my need to trust someone when he brought me to Outcast Island, and when he pled my case to your father. And so he became my dearest friend."
It made sense. Eirson always wondered why Nanna and Keldon never married, despite being so close to each other. But now it all made sense.
"I'm sorry you lost him," Eirson said. "Keldon, I mean."
Nanna shook her head. "We're not talking about me right now. We're talking about you." She leaned closer. "What did you lose when you lost your father?"
The list seemed endless to Eirson. A father, an entire family, a mentor, a protector, a chief…
"Not physical things, Eirson." Nanna reached over to pat his chest. "In here. What did you lose inside of you?"
Eirson felt a heaviness settle in his chest.
"A sense of belonging, maybe? Security?" she suggested. "Is there someone new in your life that can give you that missing piece back?"
Eirson's eyes lifted immediately and scanned the room. And when they stopped, they fell on Zephyr standing across the Hall speaking with Fishlegs. And once they found her, they wouldn't leave her.
Nanna chuckled. "I thought so."
Nanna began to stand up next to Eirson. He shook himself from his trance and jumped up as well to help her, keeping a supportive hand on her elbow as she shuffled back to her seat among the other Outcasts and securing his own bowl with his free hand. She smiled at him and settled in, saying something about "a good boy" and patting Eirson's arm like a beloved animal. As she pulled her borrowed furs around her shoulders, a young Outcast woman took a seat next to Nanna and helped her into a more comfortable position.
Satisfied that Nanna was taken care of for now, Eirson turned and stepped out of the makeshift camp, handing his bowl to an elderly man who seemed to be just waking up from a nap. Eirson wasn't very hungry right now anyway, especially after the conversation with Nanna, and this man could use some more meat on his bones, maybe help stave off some illness. As he glanced back one more time, everyone seemed content enough and taken care of, so Eirson decided he was safe to step out of the Hall for some air.
As he put more and more distance between him and his tribe, he noticed himself instinctually walking towards the guest accommodations. Most of them housed Wingmaidens, a few were inhabited by Outcasts (mostly the young men, as the women generally didn't want to leave the children and elders), and of course Eirson's room. Sometimes he felt he too should move his belongings into the Great Hall, sit among his tribe's elders and women and children in order to better protect them. But doing so felt like submitting himself to the realities of the situation, not all of which he was ready to face.
Zephyr would probably call it selfish. He didn't really care.
Thwick.
Eirson snapped his head around at the sound. He found three young boys nearby in between two houses. They had one bow amongst them, and seemed to be shooting arrows into one of the walls. One of the boys took the bow and slipped the nock onto the string.
The boy wasn't near as graceful with the motions as the last man Eirson had seen shoot an arrow.
He drew, took aim at nothing in particular, and released the arrow. Snap.
The arrow struck true into the side of the building. Thwick.
Augh...
Eirson closed his eyes and turned, quickly running from the boys. He knew the last sound wasn't real, but he heard it so clearly... It wasn't real, right? It wasn't real...
But was it?
Another boy snatched the bow, nocked an arrow, and-
Snap. Thwick.
Augh…
Eirson shook his head violently. No, no, it couldn't be real. It couldn't-
Snap. Thwick. Augh.
But he heard it so- It was so clearly there-
Snap. Thwick. Augh.
"No, no no no no no…" Eirson ran away from the sounds, an entirely instinctual reaction he had no control over. His legs pushed harder as the sounds ran circles in his head, like a chanting seidr dances around a fire. He tried to run away from the image of the blood-soaked arrowhead, but it just kept following him.
Snap. Thwick. Augh.
Snap. Thwick. Augh.
Shhhhh...
Eirson's head snapped up. He tripped over his own feet at the new sound. He looked frantically around as he barely caught himself from falling. He was by the forge. Hiccup was sharpening his sword. He stared at it. He stared at the sword, waiting for it to find its victim, waiting for the metal to slice through soft skin.
Shhhhh...
Shhhhh...
Shhhhh...
THUD.
Eirson could hear it so clearly, louder than all the other sounds. He felt sick, he bent over as if the sound had knocked the air from his lungs. No, not again, not again-
"Eirson?"
Eirson looked up. He saw Halvor. Halvor was looking at him.
"Sir! Sir!" Halvor's voice drifted in through the haze, but he sounded so far away. "Sir, we have to move!"
Snap. Thwick. Augh. Shhhhh. Thud.
"Sir, I beg ye! Ye have to give me a hand here!"
Eirson didn't do well with conflict.
"Come on, sir, move yer feet, one step at a time, please!"
Alvin had always done everything in his power to protect Eirson.
Snap. Thwick. Augh. Shhhhh. Thud.
"Eir, wake up, it's me! Eirson!"
Eir? Halvor didn't call him Eir…
Eirson looked up again. Halvor was gone. He just saw Zephyr.
He saw Zephyr. He saw Zephyr's blue eyes. They were watery. They flicked between his eyes frantically.
"Eir, it's okay. It's just me," she repeated softly. She reached up and touched his cheek, just a gentle brush of her fingers. "It's just me, you're okay."
Eirson looked down. He was breathing heavily, kneeling in the road, tears in his eyes. He scrubbed his eyes. His heart was racing. He looked around. Halvor was nowhere in sight.
"Eir, hey, it's okay." She cupped his face with both of her hands now, guiding his eyes back to her. She searched his eyes carefully.
Eirson let her. He let himself be lost in the sea of blue before him.
She pursed her lips. "I know that look," she whispered. "I've seen it before. You weren't here. You were back there, weren't you? On Outcast?"
Eirson's eyes filled with tears again. He nodded silently.
Zephyr nodded empathetically back at him. "It's okay," she repeated. "It's not happening again. It's all over. He won't hurt you like that again."
Eirson let himself believe her.
She rocked back on her heels, and stood up. Bending back over, she took his hands in hers. She was so gentle. She was so kind. "Come on, let's get you home, okay?"
Okay.
He stood carefully. He still didn't feel right. He felt dizzy, disoriented. He felt like he wasn't actually in control of his body.
But that was okay. Zephyr was here. Zephyr had him. Zephyr was in control.
He saw Hiccup behind her. Hiccup stared at him. Eirson didn't like the way he was staring at him.
Zephyr turned him around. She led him away from the forge, away from the street, away from the village. He saw a seemingly endless number of eyes watching him. He didn't like it. But Zephyr was leading him away, and that was good. The eyes didn't follow. He wondered what she meant when she said she had seen "that look" before. How did she know?
"Are you okay?" She asked once they were in the comfort of the trees.
Eirson nodded. He didn't have the strength to do much else.
Zephyr didn't seem convinced.
She led him up the hill, up the path, up the stairs. She watched him carefully the whole way. She opened the door for him, ushered him inside, led him back to his private quarters.
As she opened the door for him, he caught a glimpse of his bed. He was immediately both relieved and distressed. As exhausted as he was, he knew the nightmares would be especially bad tonight. They always were when he was reminded of…
Zephyr seemed to sense something was wrong. "You don't have to go to sleep if you don't want to. I just thought you might like some... Privacy."
Eirson's eyes didn't leave his bed.
"Thank you," he said. He chose to ignore how weak his voice sounded. He stood for a moment in the doorway, not sure what to do.
He heard Zephyr chuckle softly. More like just a rush of air from her nose, but the sound was endearing. It suited her. She lit a candle across the room before crossing back over to him. "Come here, sit down," she said, less of an order and more of a request.
Zephyr gently pushed him out of the doorway so she could close it behind them. She guided him to the bed and made him sit. She stood in front of him. Eirson couldn't help but notice that even with him sitting and her standing in front of him, the top of his head still reached her nose.
Her nose scrunched up. Eirson liked the way it looked. "Eir, when was the last time you brushed out your hair?"
"Uh..." Truth be told, he didn't know.
She muttered something under her breath that Eirson didn't quite catch. He was distracted by the gentle rummaging of her fingers around the leather strap in his hair. She managed to free the tie and set it on the bed next to Eirson, looking around the room.
"In the drawer. The desk." Eirson nodded in the direction of the structure across the room. It was a desk with a tall cabinet-like structure attached to one side. Something Hiccup thought up, Eirson was sure.
Suddenly, the words Nanna had said earlier drifted into his thoughts. "A sense of belonging, maybe? Security? Is there someone new in your life that can give you that missing piece back?"
Security?
And then the name Zephyr had called him whispered in his head. Eir. "You called me 'Eir,'" he softly stated. "Earlier, too, I mean."
Zephyr's rummaging slowed as she thought over what he had just said. "I, uh… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."
"No one calls me that," Eirson continued to think out loud. "It woke me up."
Zephyr stopped entirely, examining Eirson's face now with a look he couldn't quite place. She slowly returned to her searching and checked another drawer before muttering, "Ah, here it is," pulling out a brush. Eirson's heart clenched, as it often did when he saw the brush. Alvin said it belonged to his mother. Alvin never was one to brush his hair. He preferred the "treacherous heathen" look. He had offered the token to Eirson as he had grown older and his hair grew longer.
She stood in front of him, her legs brushing against his own, and set the brush down on the bed beside him. She reached up with gentle fingers and began unraveling his braids, which apparently hadn't fallen out on their own.
"You told me to wake up," Eirson whispered. Zephyr's fingers slowed. "You said, 'Eir, wake up.'"
She met his eyes. "I did, yeah."
"How did you know?"
She seemed to consider his words as she turned back to his braids, and at first Eirson was afraid she'd misunderstand the question. But after a moment she said, "Well, you don't drop to your knees in the middle of the village street very often" - she offered a small smile with her joke - "so I ran over to see if you were okay." Her eyebrows pinched together and her lips twitched as if a bee had stung her. "I said your name, and you acted like you heard me. But… When you looked at me, you weren't… You weren't looking at me, it was like you were focused on something… I don't know, something far away, something past me. You responded to me speaking, but you weren't actually responding to me, like something was just… Off…" She looked at him again. "Like you were lost in a bad dream."
They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, Zephyr's fingers still mindlessly unraveling Eirson's tiny braids, until he thought of something else. "You said you knew that look. You… you said you saw it before."
Zephyr nodded slowly. "Yes, I did."
"On me?"
"Yes."
"When?"
Zephyr bit her lip. "The day you told me what that invader did to your father."
Eirson felt sick again. He didn't like that. He wanted it to go away. He focused on something good. "You called me 'Eir,'" he repeated.
Zephyr nodded. "Yes. I didn't mean to."
"No one calls me that," he repeated. "It was different. It didn't sound right in… In my dream. I knew it didn't belong. It woke me up. And then I saw you."
Zephyr watched him carefully. She slowly reached up to wipe away a tear from Eirson's cheek. "I can keep calling you that if you want," she softly offered.
Eirson found himself nodding in response.
Zephyr nodded back. "Okay." Her eyes drifted to his hair again. "Alright, come here. Let's fix you up again." She picked up the brush and stood in front of him again. She gently brushed his hair, starting at his face and reaching around him to push the brush through his locks to the ends. Eirson saw the peaceful look in her eyes. It seemed to flow throughout her body and bleed from her fingertips into the brush and across Eirson's head. He took a deep breath. It made her smile.
"Not so shaky that time," she whispered, keeping her focus on his hair. "That's good."
He liked the way her smile lifted her cheek. It made her eyes kinder. When her smile was genuine, she would squint just a little. Her nose would do the same little scrunch too if she found something amusing. Eirson liked that too. Sometimes she looked too harsh, too solid. He liked that part of her, but he liked seeing this softer side too. It reminded him she had so many different sides, so many different talents and potentials.
His gaze slid down her nose and fell on her lips. The soft grace of the smile she had a moment ago stayed even when the smile itself faded. One corner remained slightly lifted as if she enjoyed the moment she found herself in. They looked a little rough, no doubt from the winter air settling in and being exposed to the wind. They added a bit of strength back to her features even in the soft candlelight. Eirson always admired how she could switch so quickly and seamlessly from "hard as a rock" to "soft as a flower" and back again.
"There," she said, obviously pleased with her work. She set the brush down on the bed next to Eirson. She ran her fingers through his tamed locks. "Just as handsome as ever."
Eirson smiled and lifted his eyes back to hers just in time for them to meet. A soft pink rose up in her cheeks, and her fingers slowed in his hair. His heart skipped a beat. "Thank you," he said.
"You're welcome." He could feel her breath brush against his cheek. He hadn't realized they had gotten so close; she was standing between his knees now. His heart began to race.
He couldn't help himself. He leaned in closer. And when she did too, he couldn't help but close his eyes and-
A knock on the door made them both jump back before they could close the distance. They looked to the door and back at each other in near unison, and by the fire burning beneath his skin, he was certain his cheeks were as bright red as Zephyr's.
"Eirson, it's Astrid. Can we talk for a minute?"
Zephyr's eyes widened. Eirson's did too.
"I have Atali with me as well."
Atali? Zephyr and Eirson shared a puzzled look. He thought about asking them to wait a moment so Zephyr could hide, but he didn't exactly have any hiding places in his room. Escaping out the window wasn't an option; the side of the building he was on was stilted up the side of a hill, much too high of a drop for any human to make without breaking a leg, or worse. Locking eyes with Zephyr, he could tell she was thinking the same thing.
Well, this was going to get awkward. "Uh... Yeah, sure, come in," he said loud enough for Astrid and Atali to hear.
The door opened slowly as Astrid peeked around it. "I know it's late, but we were wondering- Zephyr?"
Zephyr chuckled nervously. "Hi, Mom."
Astrid eyed them suspiciously. "What's-"
"I was walking back from the Great Hall," Eirson interrupted. Both women stared him down. They were scarily similar. "I, uh... Had another scare," he said to Astrid. "Zephyr just happened to find me this time." He smiled sheepishly, hoping it would help their innocence.
Astrid immediately softened, remembering the incident in the woods Eirson was referring to when he said "another scare." Zephyr gave him a confused look, but when Astrid turned sympathetic and merely said, "Oh, I see. Anyway..." Zephyr didn't seem to care too much. Though Eirson knew she'd ask about it later if given the chance.
"I was talking to Atali earlier, and..." Astrid stepped fully into the door and waved Atali in after her. "Well, I think Atali should be the one to talk to you." Astrid looked back at Eirson. "If you have time, of course. It's a bit of a... Extensive topic."
Eirson wasn't sure how he felt about that. He definitely didn't have the energy to discuss any "extensive topic" tonight. But he also knew that as soon as he laid down, the nightmares would follow closely behind. And, solely based on Astrid's tone, if he didn't find out now he definitely wouldn't be sleeping tonight. They seemed very serious. It made him feel more sick. So he gestured to the chair pushed under his desk. "Have a seat, then. I have time." He looked at Astrid. "Oh, wait-"
"I'll grab a chair from the empty room next door. You sit." Without waiting for permission, Astrid slipped out the door.
Atali seemed to lose some of her confidence once Astrid had left the room. She swallowed and pulled out the chair, sat down quite uncomfortably, and cleared her throat. Zephyr didn't seem to know what to do with herself, so she stood next to the bed with her arms crossed.
"I... Have some information that Astrid believes you may find... Useful," Atali began. She looked as though having this conversation was physically painful for her. "If you wish to hear it."
"What is this about?" Eirson asked slowly. He could feel a pit of unease boring itself in his stomach.
Atali hesitated. Astrid walked back in the room and silently sat down in her newly-acquired chair in the corner of the room. She gave Atali a supportive nod. Atali didn't seem comforted.
"Before I tell you what this is all about," Atali started again, "I need you to understand something. I have had this... Information, this knowledge, for a long time. However, I did not feel it was my place to give this information to you. Others possessed the same knowledge and were in a better position to present it to you, due to the sensitive nature of it. It wouldn't have been fair to you. However, my dear friend Astrid has brought it to my attention that... I may be one of the only ones left with such information." Atali's eyes began to water, and she had to pause to compose herself. "I... I simply ask you not become angry with me for withholding what I have for so long. It wouldn't have been right coming from me. I only present it to you now - if you wish - because I am the only option."
Eirson was overwhelmed and confused. None of her words made sense, she was just rambling, and that wasn't something Atali was known for. More than that, the look she gave Eirson anytime she did manage to meet his eyes was… Unsettling… "I... I don't understand."
Atali pursed her lips and took a deep breath through her nose. "If you wish to hear what I have to say... I have some information about your mother. About Eira."
Eirson's stomach dropped to his feet. No, past his feet, it dropped through his feet and the floor and the ground and the island and the sea all the way to the bottom of the ocean floor. The room spun around him. He worried he'd slip off the edge of the bed. Maybe he already had; he couldn't feel it underneath him. He couldn't feel anything at all.
"Oh my gods," Zephyr gasped almost silently. She absentmindedly sat on the bed next to Eirson. The sudden weight next to him gave him an anchor to ground himself a little better. He felt the warmth of her arm against his and focused on it.
"Please, do not be upset with me," Atali begged, refusing to meet Eirson's eyes now. "I did not believe it was my place to tell you about her when Alvin was still alive." Her next words caught in her throat, but she took a gasping breath and pushed through anyway. "Of course, you have every right to be upset. But the offer still stands either way."
Eirson's mind was both racing and silent at the same time. No single thought was able to push to the front. He was so overwhelmed he didn't move or speak at all. He was both relieved and in disbelief of what Atali had just said to him.
Atali kept her eyes on the floor. Astrid was quietly waiting, Zephyr was silently shocked.
Eirson realized they were all waiting on him.
"Wha... H-how much can you tell me about her?"
Atali sadly chuckled. "Anything you want to know."
Eirson didn't have the mental capacity to think through that right now, neither the implications of the statement or which of the thousands upon thousands of questions he had to ask first. He wasn't sure what he had expected her to say but "anything" definitely was not it. The majority of his mind still wasn't comprehending just what it was she was offering. His mother. She was offering to answer any question he ever had about his mother. Something his own father was never able to bring himself to offer.
He settled on a related question that seemed disconnected enough to give him a moment to collect his thoughts. "How do you know so much about her?"
"She was a Wingmaiden. In fact, we were recruited together."
Wingmaiden.
So much for collecting his thoughts.
Eirson could feel his throat closing. A rush of tears overwhelmed his eyes. A Wingmaiden. His mother was a Wingmaiden. One of the most sacred warriors to walk Midgard, warriors that had the respect of all who knew of them. Of course his mother was no less; what woman could have been good enough for Alvin the Treacherous if not a Wingmaiden? He felt even more overwhelmed; how could he possibly live up to either of their names, their legacies?
Legacies that were both now wiped from existence.
But Eirson had to know. Now more than ever.
"Anything?" He carefully asked.
Atali nodded, not looking at him. "More than likely, yes."
He wanted to know it all. It felt like a selfish request, Atali was obviously uncomfortable and upset. But… Didn't Eirson have a right to know? No matter who it came from? What if he never had a chance like this again?
His eyes filled with tears. He had to know. He had to know everything he could. "Can... Can you just start from the beginning?"
Atali looked pleadingly at Astrid. Astrid only returned a look to encourage her to continue. Atali sighed and scrubbed her face with the heels of her hands, a gesture that Eirson had never once seen the warrior make, before her hands dropped back into her lap. She stared at her hands for a while.
Atali then nodded slowly, seeming to collect her thoughts.
And then with another deep breath, she shakily began her story. Eira's story.