{SET BEFORE THE EVENTS OF 'THOR'}
-
"Did you know," she said, sitting on the ground and turning to the prince, "that Midgard has an entire language dedicated to flowers? Each of them mean something else. It's a very sweet way they can express emotio...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
*
After a tiring shift in the healing wing, Gale hung up her apron with care and closed her eyes, leaning against the wall. It felt cool against her skin, almost refreshing. After being on her feet all day, she felt completely sick to her stomach.
"You all right?"
She opened her eyes and smiled wanly at Iver, her best friend and fellow healer. "Just a bit stressed is all. Thanks."
"I know what you mean," he replied, tossing a roll of bandages to her. She deftly caught them mirror in her hands and stored them away in a cabinet. "Once all of this stuff with the prince is over, I know I'll sleep better at night."
Gale felt her chest tighten as she thought of her Asmund all alone in a cell, suffering from unknown injuries. While the king hadn't disclosed his methods for attempting to extract the truth to the public for obvious reasons like saving face or keeping his so-called honor, the excruciating pains that occasionally shot through her soul mark told her more than enough.
"I suppose," she murmured, nodding. Iver noticed a faint pink coloring on her cheeks but attributed it to the heat of the healing wing.
"Are you sure you're all right? You look tired. And really pale."
"I think I just need some rest. I know we had plans, but-"
He cut right over her. "Don't apologize. We can go for drinks another night. In fact, I'll walk you home."
"Thanks."
They waved to Lord Erik, the head healer, before heading out the back door. Despite it being sunset, the summer sun beat down on them and Gale swayed slightly, the heat amplifying her nauseousness. She tried to hide her discomfort but Iver noticed all the same. Instead of pointing it out, he only offered her an arm and gave her the support she needed.
The pair made their way down the hill and to the nearby village where both of them lived. Gale noticed more blossoms sprouting than usual. Briefly, she wondered if the visiting princess had anything to do with it. The royal family had been relatively private in the last two weeks, but the rumors spread all the same. Some wondered if the king had always been abusive and was only now showing his true colors. The most popular debate was the identity of Prince Asmund's mystery wife, a conversation she wasn't at all comfortable with.
The kingdom sat on the edge of its seat, curious beyond belief as these events unfolded. The future was uncertain. Asmund had been their future, and that future was safe and secure. Now, though, that shattered, leaving behind only uncertainty. Whispers swept the halls and streets. The old thought him foolish, the young thought him brave. Everyone mourned the chance for their beloved eldest prince to rule, because the odds of him ascending the throne were all but gone.
"It's so hot out," Gale said, wishing her gray dress didn't have long sleeves. "I don't remember the last time we had such a hot summer."
"It's been quite a few years. I've heard the farmers talking. They're worried about a potential drought."
