#ingunn

Runar would be so excited to meet his nephew. The thought warmed Yves’ heart, even as it hammered against his chest a little too fast. He had been thinking of Runar a lot. Had been thinking about what he wanted to say to him once he returned. About how to tell him how his life, his feelings, his whole heart had changed. How everything was different now.

He wondered whether Runar’s summer had changed him, too.

As the ship drew nearer, its shape seemed more and more familiar, calling back to when he, himself, had sailed. It seemed somehow wrong now that he hadn’t gone with them.

Cheers erupted when the ship came into earshot, from both sides, greetings and welcomes, and Yves, too, called out, his voice just one of the choir.

And yet, amidst the joy, something darker reared its head — a reminder of how he had been when he arrived, the way Runar and the others arrived now, all those months ago, of all that fear and all that pain. Perhaps it had never been away, only dormant.

He had to push it down, that memory of how he had cowered in that same ship as the warriors landed, frozen with cold and terror.

He forced a smile, determined to make it true before the day was out.

* Runar always looked forward to coming home, but this time was… different. And it wasn’t even that he was hoping to meet his sister-child for the first time.

He should pull himself together. Things had been complicated when he left, and if he didn’t fuck it up, this could be a fresh start. But it was hard when they approached the pier, and Yves was right there in the front row, wearing a blue tunic with a striped pattern that seemed just the right level of complexity to be personally made by someone who was, though still with much left to learn, progressing in his weaving skill, and — Runar’s heart skipped a beat — his dark hair, now past chin-length, braided as one who was waiting for someone who had left to sea.

He seemed happy to be standing there, up front, too — at ease and confident enough, and when he set eyes on Runar, a smile broke across his face.

Runar’s heart did a weird little hop, as if it were about to leap out of his mouth.

He swallowed. He had to be sensible.

And there was Ingunn, too, standing right by Yves, a tiny little baby on her arm.

That did not make him feel more normal, but it did help distract him from Yves a little. He’d have to take it easy for him; the baby, on the other hand, wouldn’t care, not yet.

He was among the first to leap off the ship, and his heart was still in his throat, and he couldn’t even decide who he wanted to greet first, swaying like a leaf in the wind for a moment, overwhelmed with joy and love, before Yves, still smiling, waved him towards Ingunn.

»Welcome home! Meet Bragi!« Ingunn sounded as excited as he felt. »Bragi, that is your uncle.«

The little glob of human gripped his finger with a tiny hand as he reached out to him. Runar didn’t think he could get any more emotional, but that nearly brought him to tears.

Eventually, though, he pulled himself free, and that was when — before he could even fully turn — Yves slammed into him, pulling him right into a hug.

And Runar’s heart just melted.

As much as he had tried to be sensible over the past months, he couldn’t deny that as he wrapped Yves into his arms. He had hoped Yves was doing well, of course, but then how could he have expected his poor heart to be normal about actually seeing him before himself with all that newfound confidence and — dare he say — happiness?

The brilliant smile Yves gave him, looking up at him, sure seemed to allow the word. »Welcome back.«

»Thanks. Hi. Are you — you look good.«

Yves nodded, pulling out of his arms. For a moment, Runar was tempted to catch his hand, but he would never hold Yves against his will.

»You look alright,« Yves replied, the smile making way for a more serious expression.

»I’m fine. I’m great, actually. It’s good to be home.« Yves. There he was, right in front of him. »How has your summer been?«

The smile returned. »Good. It was — yes, it was good.« A moment’s hesitation, and then he added, so quiet that Runar almost might have believed his ears were playing tricks, »I missed you.«

Gods. How was he supposed to act normal?

It didn’t help that next on the schedule was the long-awaited bath.

He remembered how it had been last year — how Yves was so insecure on his feet Runar felt compelled to support him, how terrified he had been. They had barely been able to communicate. And now, Yves confidently walked along with him, carrying fresh clothes for them both — just like he had done then. He could barely listen to Ingunn on his other side, chatting away about the news in the village.

As usual, she abandoned them when they reached the hot springs, if a little more careful than usual, with the baby.

Runar undressed, prepared to go ahead and give Yves some privacy. He had taken him to take baths multiple times, of course, last winter, but he had quickly realized it was a sensitive matter for him, and had avoided watching him while he was naked and bare.

But Yves didn’t even hesitate to undress. He seemed so confident that Runar allowed himself a covert look.

He was still slender — he always would be — but nowhere near as agonizingly thin as he had been a year ago, recovered muscle padded in just enough fat now not to be concerning. All his wounds were healed, the scars fading into the skin. There were a few bruises, but nothing, Runar remembered after a moment of alarm, that wasn’t explained by training. He was proud, even, that Yves could apparently handle these minor hurts without being pulled back to darker times. He’d still check in with Yves about that later, just in case.

* Yves had gotten used to taking his baths alone, but he found it didn’t frighten him to undress in company, now.

Not in this company, anyway.

He found his eyes tracing Runar’s form as he went ahead into the hot springs; soft, round shapes moving with such strength, thin white scars here and there-

His heartrate picked up again before his eyes caught on Runar’s left forearm, tidily wrapped in bandages Runar started to undo when he was mostly submerged in the warm water.

»You’re injured.« Yves splashed into the water himself, now hurrying to catch up to him.

Runar turned, smiling. »It’s nothing, just a scratch.«

»Let me help you.« His breath caught in his throat at how easily the words fell from his tongue; his hands barely hesitated when he reached out to undo the bandages Runar was struggling with, with only one hand reaching.

It was so different from how it had been, a year ago. His heart was in his throat, but in a way that was so very different.

When he was done, revealing a long, thin, scabbed-over cut, he looked up to see Runar’s eyes resting on him, softer still than he remembered.

He didn’t know why he blushed.

They bathed together, helped one another clean their backs. Yves’ skin drew into goosebumps, and he almost could have blamed the cold air.

Freshly cleaned and clothed, they went down to the feast.

Yves paused in the doorway to the longhouse, and Runar noticed immediately.

»Are you okay?«

Yves could only nod, unsure how to put into words how overwhelmed he was, not with fear, but with its absence. Maybe there was a little undercurrent of nerves somewhere, but compared with last year, when the filled room with its delicious scents sent him into a panic? He found himself blinking away tears.

Runar gently laid a hand on his shoulder. »Are you sure?«

»Yes.« Yves smiled up at his concerned face. Even Runar’s worry no longer seemed suffocating — just endearing.

They took their seats in the hall, and feasted, and exchanged stories. Yves, with an easy heart, helped serve the table.

That was when Brandr approached him.

Yves straightened. He would not let Brandr take away his happiness — happiness? him? what a breathtaking thought — again.

He was ready.

»I owe you an apology,« Brandr said bluntly.

Yves was so taken aback he couldn’t respond, and to his immense surprise, Brandr reacted by stepping back a little.

»Yes. You do.« His voice came out a little louder than he planned. There it was, that anxiety again. He was talking back.

He pushed it away. He wasn’t even doing that.

Brandr threw up his hands. »So. ‘m sorry. Seems you recovered alright.«

Yves nodded, then after a moment’s hesitation, he said, »Thank you.«

He knew why Brandr was doing this. The community needed to stick together, and he, Yves… he was one of them. It wouldn’t be right for him to hold a grudge.

»Everything alright?« Runar met him halfway back to the table after he and Brandr parted.

»He apologized.«

»Oh.« Runar seemed almost as surprised as Yves had been, but then he nodded. »Right so.«

They sat and feasted long into the night.

She was acting so urgent that he followed after her before he even realized — he put the pieces together when he slammed the door shut. He didn’t even notice the bang or the force he had just used on what was Runar’s.

»Is she alright?«

She was too far ahead of him to answer, and he followed her to Ingunn’s house, where he found the family already assembled. That was the first time he hesitated; while the midwife’s pupil rushed into the single seperate room emmitting curses yelled in Ingunn’s voice, he lingered in the doorframe.

Ingunn’s husband stood before the fireplace and stared into its depths, clearly trying to distract himself, but glancing at the door to the other room every moment. Her and Runar’s mother — Yves had yet to work up the courage to ask what had become of their father — leant at the doorframe, muttering what Yves assumed to be blessings or prayers. Others, uncles and cousins and who knew who else, sat around the table, together with two of the village elders, notably not Runar’s grandmother he had pointed out to Yves at every event. Yves assumed she was with the birthing woman, sharing her wisdom and strength.

Ingunn’s mother noticed him first; she finished a verse or a sentence before she called to him, »Yves! Come on in. I’m glad you came.«

Yves hesitantly stepped in, unsure where to go. He didn’t want to sit down, his skin prickling with an anxiety that, though it felt all too familiar, had nothing to do with what was buried inside him; but neither did he want to intrude on the spaces of husband or mother.

The elder woman got up, a cup in her hand, and came to him, her face deeply wrinkled from many smiles. »Come, child,« she said, holding the cup out. »Join us while we wait.«

»Thank you, mother.« The word slipped out as easily and naturally as she had called him child, and she smiled kindly. He took a sip from the cup, warm mead infused with something herbal, and followed her back to the table. A few of the relatives looked up, but no one seemed particularly put out by his presence; some vaguely familiar faces nodded at him.

Yves stood and waited. What little conversation was happening around the table was held in whispers, and easy to ignore next to Ingunn’s audible struggle. The anxiety that had clawed into him when he arrived subsided into a mere echo of himself, gentled by the mead or the knowledge that Ingunn was receiving all the care she should; but it left its shape behind to easily be filled with more familiar fears.

Should he really be here? Was it right for him, the stranger, to stand here with Ingunn’s closest? You’re not a stranger anymore. Sure, Runar had said it, but Runar was clearly biased.

What’s a pathetic little runt like you doing here?

When he recognized the voice, he knew.

Ingunn would never speak to him like that. None of the family would; clearly not even the elders would. Here, when Ingunn was fighting for the sake of her child, he owed it to her to fight back as well.

You’re not a stranger anymore.

A sudden rush of fierce protectiveness overcame him. He wasn’t a stranger; this was his family, too, and he would do anything to help Ingunn.

There wasn’t much he could do, of course. But not letting them in seemed like a fair effort.

He sighed, pausing to look out at the sea he had brought Yves across. Signy’s words from that dreadful night echoed in his mind - it might have been kinder to kill him then and there.

He didn’t want to believe it.

“He’s still scared.” He didn’t look at Ingunn, to spare her the effort of hiding a triumphant expression.

“Of you?” She just said, matter-of-factly, and sat down on the sparse grass. The sun was growing weaker every day, but the weather was nice, barely any wind to blow away the leftover warmth of the autumn.

“Of me, of everything, I suppose.” Runar dropped himself next to his sister. As he said it, the truth of it hit him. Nothing he had done, no matter how hard he tried, hadn’t scared Yves. Maybe it wasn’t possible to do anything that didn’t scare him. How was he supposed to rest and recover like that?

“Signy said she thought he was getting better.”

“I thought so too. On the ship. But - I think he just got exhausted. He just… grew numb. Now since we’re here, everything has changed, and he’s right back to the start…” He pressed his lips together and looked away.

Ingunn put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly.

“It was my fault he ran away. I never should have left him alone, I knew he was scared…” He pressed a hand to his face, pressed his eyes closed. “Fuck.”

He let Ingunn pull him into her arms, resting his head against her shoulder where she wouldn’t see him cry. It was silly, really, but it felt better that way.

“He’s been through so much, and he survived. He survived whatever they did to him there, he survived the journey here, fuck, he survived running away in the rain and getting jumped by a fucking pack of wolves. He deserves a little rest.”

“You’re pretty fond of him, aren’t you?” There was no judgment in Ingunn’s voice, just soft curiosity.

“He’s strong. He deserves… he deserves a little comfort, and no matter what I try, I can’t give it to him.” He buried his face in the crook of Ingunn’s neck, and Ingunn patted his far shoulder. “I’m a healer, Ingunn. I’m supposed to heal him. And I-” I don’t know if I can. He couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud, but he knew Ingunn heard him all the same.

For a while, she was silent, offering no empty words of comfort, and he was grateful for that. Eventually, she said quietly, “Some sicknesses can’t be cured by the best of healers. That’s not your fault.”

He looked up at her face to be met with an unusually serious expression. “I still have to try.”