#yseult4

Priscilla wasn’t there, thankfully. Things had been fraught enough with Fenrik when Hilda had shared her news that she wanted to share it without Priscilla being there. If she shared it. Nerves gnawed at her. Rationally she knew Yseult wouldn’t react the same, but still the fear remained. What if, what if, what if. What if she lost what she had left to call family, one after the after? Fenrik first, then Yseult, then Elba, the space around her growing emptier and emptier until all she had left was herself and a woman who was only marrying her for the protection it afforded her. Wouldn’t that be ironic, she thought with a wry twist of her lips as she poured drinks: if she lost everything she cared about in this life in an attempt to make a better one for herself. It would be just her luck. 

Hilda handed Yseult her drink before settling down next to her. It had been a long time since they’d sat side by side in this cabin. It felt nice, despite her anxieties. “That’s a Hilda special,” she warned. That meant it was strong. “Don’t down it all in one go, or I’ll have to carry you home.” There wasn’t room for three of them in this cabin, and Priscilla would be back eventually.