Chapter 10

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Razi

In the days leading up to Victoria Bloodswell’s trial, Frigga’s anxiety skyrocketed and her already poor sleep worsened to three or four hours a night. She’d managed to go for a walk the day before the coven’s meet, and though Frigga had been tired and emotional, Razi was optimistic that she’d be back to her usual self soon. She was doing much better than she had the day after it happened, after all.

But then five whole days passed without even a single glimpse of her, so Razi resorted to asking the witch’s personal attendant for updates. Not only had she stopped going outside, but she’d stopped leaving her room entirely. Her condition was getting worse by the day. Doris even mentioned that she’d offered to fetch Razi for a visit, but Frigga hadn’t responded, just stared out the window like she’d been for hours. Razi wished she could do more to help then just make her love’s favourites or send up flowers, especially because the trays would come back completely untouched more often than not. 

Since asking Doris to keep her informed, her romance with Frigga seemed more widely known amongst staff. At least it allowed her to ask after Frigga during her sudden illness without having to come up with a bullshit excuse, but it also subjected her to the opinions and judgements of her peers. She was used to the older ladies’ disapproval at her antics in town, but a disappointed click of the tongue or head shake was usually the limit. Now Gertrude was on her about five times a day giving her grunt work that really should have been saved for professionals, Stephan had taken to looking at her like she was a dog that had pissed on his shoes and refused to lift a pinky to help her if she ever asked. Others had stopped trying to hide their obvious gossiping, even laughing at her when she entered or exited a room and Razi thought she heard the words “suck-up” and “whore” more than once. The rumours had breached Thorneheart Manor’s staff, much to Razi’s dismay, because even some of the more grotesque men in town had asked her entirely inappropriate questions about the heiress, implying ulterior motives on Razi’s part and perverted intentions on Frigga’s.

As Razi received the day’s delivery of produce, she did her best to play nice. The grocer Matthias was a decent fellow, but his son John was filling in for him today as the man had caught cold. John had always been an asshole, was almost as big a flirt as Razi had once been, and he was unbelievingly well-informed of the comings and goings of nearly everyone in Honeyshore. That probably had something to do with Doris being his cousin; being a busybody was a family trait, apparently.

John was a rat of a man, about Razi’s height, only handsome if one was very drunk, but under his onion skin facade was a cesspool of entitlement and vanity. He was wearing that stupid hat today, the one that made him look like a complete and utter douche, and Razi was tempted to punch it off his head when he pulled Razi aside, leaving Noel to bring in the cabbage and fresh batch of flour. She figured he had a question about the job but his decrepitly professional demeanour gave way to a crooked grin that made her feel queasy. The skin on his face was peeling, and the man clearly hadn’t brushed his teeth in days. No wonder he couldn’t keep a girl, what Darcy saw in him Razi would never know. “I hear you’re, er, close with the family, eh Raz?”

She scowled at him and his stupid, lopsided grin. “What the fuck d’ you want?”

He held his hands in front of him, as if defending himself. “Nah, I just heard you hit the jackpot. Can’t do much better than a Thorneheart, can ye?” He tried sidling up to Razi, as if she were a buddy and he her confidant.

She eased away, crossed her arms, and narrowed her eyes. “I asked what th' fuck d’ you want? I got work t’ do.”

“Bet she’s spoiling you rotten.” He tipped his stupid hat with a creepy sneer. “No wonder we haven’t seen you ‘round pub lately.”

“Don’ you have work t’ do?”

“Surprised yer still in the kitchens, thought she’d 'av you up in ‘er room all day.” His grin faltered and then his expression turned lewd. “Bet those magics 'av other usages, no doubt, I’m certain you could fill in a detail or two. I heard them magical types are just the freakiest, nast-”

She grabbed his lapels in one fist, raised the other, and rammed him against his own cart. The man’s absurd hat fell to the ground and he scrambled to find purchase. “I swear to th’ gods, John McKenzie, I don’ fuckin’ care wha’ you say ‘bout me, but If I ‘ear you talkin’ ‘bout Frigga like tha’, so ‘elp me I’ll knock your rotted teeth out t’ Blue’aven an’ you wit’ ‘em!”

“Hey! Y’can’t blame a man for being curious, Wood!” he protested, knowing full well that Razi would follow through on her threat.

“I can. S’nobody’s business, least of all yours!” Razi released him roughly and looked over to the kitchen. “Noel, everything in?” She called. Noel called back to confirm, so Razi turned her scowl back on John. “Get th’ fuck out of ‘ere, I better not see you ‘round ‘ere any time soon.”

John grabbed his hat, brushed off some dirt with a huff, and left as he grumbled about rabid dogs and bootlickers. He was lucky to leave with his face intact at all, Razi had desperately wanted to punch him, but she couldn’t chance word of that kind of violence getting back to her employer. As soon as the man got back into town, he would confirm to everyone that she was definitely off the market, and Razi once again lamented that people insisted on digging their noses into her business.

“I mean, he’s right,” Noel’s soft tease came from the kitchens, “I’ve heard that about witches too.”

Razi turned to scowl at her.  She was about five years older than herself and probably the person Razi enjoyed working with the most. “You attached t’ your teeth?” she threatened without any heat behind it.

Noel chuckled. “It’s very fine of you to defend Miss Thorneheart’s honour like that. Very gentlemanly.”

“Whatever, let’s jus’ get this done,” Razi replied sullenly as she went back inside. The two of them resumed their task and finished bringing in the groceries when Razi’s bell rang, summoning her to… Frigga’s room? She hesitated, torn between excitement and dread.

“Strange,” said Noel. “I wonder what’s going on?”

“Yeah,” agreed Razi. She untied her apron, hung it up on her hook, and looked back at Noel. “You got this?”

She nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

Razi headed toward Frigga’s room, but midway up the main staircase she began to hear a commotion coming from the family rooms. Sounded like someone was having a tantrum. It was rare that Leland threw tantrums, the last had been before Frigga left for school, but as Razi got closer it became clear that it was Frigga screaming.

She ran to the witch’s room and discovered Doris and Gertrude trying to restrain Frigga who was thrashing violently and shrieking, attempting to scratch herself, and trying to pull her hair out. The attendants were yelling in a fruitless attempt to make her listen, but clearly neither had experience with such a scenario. Doris had a tight grip on Frigga’s right arm to keep her from pulling out hair, and Gertrude was on her left side, grasping her other wrist which was clawing at her own face. Razi rushed over and Doris made space for her as she placed a hand on Frigga’s chest and applied gentle pressure. For what felt like hours, Frigga yelled and thrashed wildly with no trace of the woman Razi had come to love. She’d been replaced by a frightened animal that had been caught in a hunter’s snare. It took patience, but eventually Frigga stopped resisting and the three attendants guided her to lay on her side. Doris and Gertrude released Frigga’s arms, and Razi climbed onto the bed to gather the witch into a gentle embrace.

Frigga curled around Razi, still sobbing and kicking her legs uselessly, but she wasn’t fighting any longer and quickly started to settle. Razi felt her entire body shaking as she ran a hand through Frigga’s destroyed curls. Clots of hair came loose. She looked to Gertrude and nodded for the woman to leave. She did, thankfully taking Doris with her, and as the two women left, Gertrude muttered “At least Wood overstepping her station is good for something,” but Razi didn’t care anymore. 

What the fuck happened? Razi finally had a moment to evaluate the destruction Frigga had brought upon herself. Several clumps of hair had come loose by now and the woman’s face was scratched and bleeding in places. Her eyes stared blankly at the wall she faced and her expression was vacant like her soul had left her body behind. Looking over the woman’s torso and arms, Razi noticed something new on Frigga’s right arm; she’d thought they were scratches, and there were scratches and bite marks all over both arms, but something was imprinted on her skin like a tattoo. White lines formed a brand, one Razi had never seen before, and there were several small symbols, all of which was enclosed in a circle. It was magical, she knew that for sure, but that was where Razi’s arcane knowledge ended. Whatever it was, it hadn’t been there a week ago. Had Frigga come across some bad magic? If this brand could cause such a visceral reaction, it had to be terrible stuff. Maybe Gertrude would know something about it? The old lady had been with these witch families so long, Razi may not have even been born when the woman started.

Frigga stopped moving completely and when she passed out, Razi grabbed the nearest pillow and gently lifted her head to place it underneath. She stroked the woman’s puffy cheek with a thumb, catching a glimpse of the chain necklace she always wore spilling from her dress collar. Should Frigga really have that on? It was quite easy to imagine half a dozen ways she might hurt herself with it if this sort of behaviour continued, but in the end Razi left it be. Instead, she tucked it back under the collar of Frigga’s dress and pressed a kiss to her scratched cheek as her own eyes prickled. Razi then pulled the comforter over Frigga’s shoulders and tucked her in before starting to put the room back together. A glass had been thrown and shattered, the vanity’s chair was overturned, and there were other bed linens strewn around.

When the room was almost tidy, Doris slipped back in, a glass of water in her hands to replace the broken one. “Is she alright?” She whispered from the door frame.

Razi didn’t look up while replacing the bench’s pillows. “She’s sleepin’.”

Doris rushed over to Razi who sat heavily on the bench by the window. “I’ve never seen her like that. It’s like she was possessed!”

Razi hung her head in her hands. “You need t’ stay calmer than tha’. Yelling’s just gon’ make it worse.”

Doris looked over to Frigga again and then back to Razi. “You didn’t do something to her, did you? Like, see other girls or something?”

Razi sighed wearily. Gods this woman needed a hobby. “No, Doris, I didn’t. I ‘aven’t seen ‘er in five days, not tha’ tha’s your bloody business.” She briefly considered asking Doris about the brand on Frigga’s arm but thought better of it. The less the woman knew the better, and if she didn’t already know and Razi was the one who pointed it out to her? Razi would rather eat her work boots than provide Doris with knowledge that might put Frigga in danger.

Razi wanted desperately to stay at Frigga’s side, but she had done everything possible in that moment and needed to figure out what had caused this. It didn’t make sense; Frigga had been terribly upset ever since the break-in because her brother got hurt, but Leland was healing well and the culprit was in custody, so what could possibly cause such an explosive reaction?

She left Frigga under Doris’ vigil and headed for Sapphire’s office. The boss needed to be informed if she hadn’t been already. Gertrude would have told her that Frigga was in distress, but Razi needed to deliver the update to her employer. She knocked on the door and was invited in. She poked her head inside, “Ma’am, about your niece?”

Sapphire nodded. “Yes, come in.”

Razi entered the orderly room and approached the desk where Sapphire sat. Typically, the woman had a formal-yet-genial affect, but today the witch seemed angry and her sharp eyes bored holes into Razi as she walked in. “How is my niece?” Her tone lacked the friendliness there had formerly been, instead it was cool and sharp.

The short hairs on the back of Razi’s neck stood on end, but she maintained eye contact with her boss. “She’s asleep, ma’am. Miss Thorneheart seemed to be ‘avin’ a panic attack or somethin’ like.”

Sapphire pursed her lips and clasped her palms together on top of the desk with intention as she considered. “Miss Wood, I recognize you and Frigga are friends, and I thank you for taking care of her.”

Razi’s stomach floor disappeared and her eyes nervously darted to the lady’s clasped hands. It was a displeased quirk of the woman’s. “She’s a special person, Ma’am.”

“She is.” Sapphire rose from her seat and turned away from Razi, looked out the window, and clasped her elegant hands together behind her back. “I don’t expect you can appreciate how important it is things go smoothly, both in regards to her marriage and to her position as future leader of this coven. She’s been preparing for this her entire life, and it would be a shame to see those plans interrupted.”

Razi’s brow furrowed. Why bring up the coven? Was Frigga’s panic attack related to it in some way? How did the mark on her arm factor in? “Yes Ma’am. I did notice somethin’ on Miss Thorneheart’s arm, an’ I’m concerned she may ‘av run int’ some kind of ‘armful magic?”

“Never mind it, it’s not your place to ask questions.” Sapphire smoothly replied, but her tone had the aftertaste of rancid fruit. “Thank you for taking care of Frigga, but I’m going to require you refrain from attending her so often from now on. She needs to focus on getting ready for her official induction into the coven, but she’s been distracted from her duties.” Sapphire looked over her shoulder at her employee, her eyes narrow.

Razi swallowed dryly. So the old lady knew? Damn. The glare she found herself pinned under made drawing breath difficult, and Razi wasn’t sure how to reply. She felt like she was being accused of single-handedly destroying the Thorneheart family’s honour, and Sapphire was waiting for her answer. This shrewd woman’s bullshit detector was supernatural, maybe literally, so Razi tried to be delicate, “I’m sorry to 'av caused an issue, Ma’am, I meant no ‘arm.”

Silence fell as the air chilled against Razi’s skin. The woman wasn’t satisfied with her answer, but Sapphire returned her critical gaze from Razi to the window. After what felt like an hour, Sapphire replied, the venom from before gone replaced with cool detachment, “As I said, Frigga needs to focus on her duties from now on and I would prefer not to hear any more whisperings about the nature of your friendship with my niece. You’re dismissed. Surely there is plenty to do downstairs.”

Razi bowed and left, closing the door behind her as swiftly and politely as possible. While her hand lingered on the doorknob, her mind spun with everything she’d just learned: the brand was related to the coven, Sapphire was responsible for the brand, and she knew Frigga was involved with Razi and was not a fan of her Heir Apparent being involved with a staff member. But could Razi really fault her for trying to do what was best by her niece, even if the lady was wrong about what that was?

Yes, yes she could.

Why couldn’t these damn rich assholes let Frigga do what she wanted? There was no point in making Frigga the coven’s leader if it would make her miserable for the rest of her life! She turned towards the kitchen, and her shoulders were tense and her teeth clenched; she had just dealt with the sleaziest man in town, prevented the love of her life from tearing herself apart only to leave her immediately after, and now her employer was intimidating her on purpose, all within the span of an hour? It was too much. When she got to the kitchen door, Razi decided she needed a couple of minutes to calm down so she headed to her room instead.

Collapsing onto the armchair near her stove, Razi tried to decompress and focussed on breathing deeply in through her nose and out through her mouth. She counted the floorboards in her room like she usually did when soothing herself, starting from the left. Forty floorboards wide, the third one from the left was cracked and there was a slightly bigger gap between nineteen and twenty. She counted again, and then a third time until her heart rate slowed and her shoulders loosed their tension.

What exactly was that mark on Frigga’s arm? The boss was likely responsible, or she knew about it at the very least, and the brand had probably triggered Frigga’s meltdown in some way. Razi doubted Sapphire would do anything harmful to her niece or force her to such a state on purpose, but that didn’t definitely rule out dangerous magic.

What was the next move? Was there a next move at all? Razi didn’t relish the idea of getting fired, even if she did toy with the idea of leaving town once in a while, but she wasn’t in a rush to take off. Razi was dancing close to the fire with this, and she’d need to behave for a bit if she wanted to keep her job and help Frigga. She sat in silence a few more minutes, continuing to breathe and re-ground herself. Whatever was going on, there wasn’t anything to do about it for now. She would do her job, try to help Frigga in the meantime, and wait.

Razi discovers the brand on Frigga's arm.

Frigga

Victoria Bloodswell’s trial had made one fact clear to Frigga: she was entirely to blame. According to the evidence, the woman had been paying hawk-like attention to the Heir Apparent’s behaviour since her arrival home and had come to the accurate conclusion that the Heir Apparent was reluctant and inept. Victoria hadn’t planned to act right away as she was convinced Frigga’s insecurity would get the better of her soon enough, and that her intervention wouldn’t be imminently necessary. When Leland was confirmed a witch, however, she’d panicked and set her plans into action rashly. Had Frigga acted as was expected of her, had she been more dedicated, Victoria wouldn’t have seen any point in trying. If Frigga had just accepted her role, done her duty well enough, been happy and grateful for her life of privilege, maybe Leland wouldn’t have been harmed and Victoria wouldn’t be in prison now. Frigga was to blame for it all because she had behaved like a self-centred child.

And what if Razi had been hurt? She could have been killed and that would have been Frigga’s fault too. Her deficiency was putting the people she loved in danger. What if her incompetence caused others in the coven to come after her family? What if her aunt’s place as leader was called into question? Thirty years of Thorneheart achievement would crumble all because Frigga just couldn’t bear to do what was expected of her. She was weak. She was greedy. She was defective.

In the days following the coven’s meet, Frigga withdrew, did not leave her room at all, refused meals, refused study time, and refused even to go out on her afternoon walks. How could she even consider going outside? Why should she be allowed to indulge when Leland was still hurt? When Victoria was imprisoned? When the coven might be ripped away from her aunt? How could she let herself enjoy meaningless past-times when she was responsible for so many terrible things? Doris often tried to comfort her, but Frigga just sent the woman away. Nothing could free Frigga of her guilt, no hollow reassurance or offering of sweets, and when her attendant offered to bring Razi up to visit, Frigga had nearly screamed. What didn’t Doris understand? Frigga was to blame for everything, so she couldn’t be allowed to enjoy anything.

Frigga lost track of the days, spending them in bed or staring out the window from her bench. Once or twice she’d tried to pick up a book or her drawing things, but the memory of her brother bleeding out in Razi’s arms was waiting to greet her there. Her dreams were filled to the brim with the same images, so Frigga did her best to avoid sleep as much as possible.

It was in this state, tired, hungry, infested with guilt, that Doris came with a summons from her aunt, and Frigga didn’t resist when the attendant pulled her over to the vanity to work out some very knotted hair. For the first time in several days, Frigga saw herself and didn’t recognize the person staring back; her eyes were red and the bags under them purple. Her skin had always been fair, but she was usually flushed in the cheeks. There was no flush now.

Doris broke out the detangling comb and oils as she slowly worked her way through the hair Frigga had neglected. The attendant spoke cheerfully to her lady as she detangled and smoothed, but Frigga didn’t register a single word. It was all just pointless gossip anyway. Doris then forced Frigga to change out of the night clothes she’d worn for days into a fresh dress before presenting her with a steaming cloth. When Frigga did not take it, her attendant patiently and methodically washed her visage, behind her ears, and over her neck until the residual tears and sweat had been completely wiped away. “Now, Miss, you’re ready,” she said. “Lady Thorneheart has been worried about you.”

More evidence against Frigga.

When she arrived at her aunt’s office, Sapphire greeted her warmly but did not hug Frigga like she usually did. Instead, Frigga was deposited in the armchair by the fireplace and her aunt sat in the one next to her, a steaming pot of tea on the table between them. Frigga hated these chairs; they were so squishy but so pointy at the same time. Perhaps it was because she was so short, but the back of the seat poked at her in the exact wrong place and the brocade fabric was far from cozy.

“How are you, Dear?” Sapphire asked in a tone that was trying to be motherly but fell short of it. “Doris informs me you’ve been quite a mess and we’ve missed you at meals.”

Frigga fought the urge to glass over; she had to give her aunt the truth, not that the woman wasn’t already aware of it. Everyone was already aware. “I…I keep wondering if this is all my fault.”

“What do you mean?”

There was no point in hiding her thoughts now. Frigga had no right to, not after what she had done. Perhaps, if she was honest with her aunt, the woman might be able to quell her doubts. If there was even the smallest glimmer of hope that Frigga was not to blame, her aunt would surely say so. She stared into the fireplace, watching the flames dance. “If I had been more committed, maybe…maybe Leland wouldn’t have been hurt. Or maybe Victoria wouldn’t have acted at all. I can’t stop thinking about how I might have encouraged her somehow.”

  The woman considered this for a few seconds, leaned back in her chair, and folded her hands in her lap. “Did you know I wasn’t sure about being leader at your age?”

Frigga’s eyes shot up to her aunt. “No, I didn’t.”

Sapphire paused thoughtfully before continuing. “You’ve been torn about your path forward, and I understand how that feels. But you should know that, after I became leader, I realized it was the best thing I could have done for myself.”

Frigga looked back into the fireplace. “I thought you had always wanted it.”

“Shortly after that, Victoria petitioned me to open that ridiculous investigation again, the one those vampires keep requesting the coven look into. She’d asked my mother nearly four years before and was denied then as well. I thought her marriage to Jun Fujiwara had killed some of that tendency towards mutiny, but it seems that your hesitance emboldened her to pick up the troubling behaviour once more.”

So it was true. Of course it was, Frigga even entertaining the possibility that she wasn’t to blame was yet more evidence of her selfishness. Her eyes dried and watered and like an infant, she could not prevent tears from falling. “Auntie, what do I do?”

Sapphire silently stood and poured her niece a cup of tea. She poured herself one as well but didn’t sit down again immediately, instead standing in place. Frigga could barely look at her aunt, the woman who’d been so spectacularly disappointed by her cowardice, but she waited for her answer. Sapphire was slightly taller than the average woman, though her distinguished position and demeanour gave her another inch or two at least. Her silver hair was always perfect, her jewelry always blue and gold and sensible, and the chunky grey cardigan hugging her broad shoulders added to her towering silhouette. Frigga’s mother had looked very unlike her aunt, and she herself resembled her not at all; Sapphire had once remarked that Abigail took after their father’s side of the family whilst she was the picture of a true Thorneheart Heir.

The woman finally sat back down with a small sigh. “I know how we’ll reinforce the coven’s faith in your commitment until you’re officially part of the coven: we’ll invoke a contract.”

In Frigga’s rattled mind, the particulars of this type of magic eluded her. “Isn’t…Aren’t contracts more for legal understandings like wills and business deals?”

Sapphire nodded slightly as she sipped her tea. “That’s correct, but it isn’t unheard of to use them in personal understandings. Because of the dire consequences of breaking one, your entering into a contract with me would prove your commitment beyond a doubt. We can show the coven the brand at the next coven meet in July, and with the new moon it’s the perfect time to do it!”

Frigga sat with the proposal and rubbed at her right arm absently where said brand would reside. It was covered in superficial scratches and a bruise from a bite that had nearly faded. “Won’t… won’t it show during the wedding?”

“Sure, but we can just ask the artist to not include it if you’d prefer that.”

“But there isn’t a way to hide it?”

“No, Frigga, you know that. The markings don’t disappear until the contract is done with. I don’t know why you’re fussing about something so silly! You’re so fair, a white mark won’t be any sort of eyesore.”

Frigga fell silent. She was right, it was such a stupid objection. But better to think about this stupid objection than about what the contract’s actual purpose was: it guaranteed the end of her relationship with Razi, the termination of her freedom, and the death of every cockroach of hope that still plagued Frigga’s heart. This contract’s purpose was to ensure her obedience, ensured she became the next Thorneheart Heir, and ensured she stayed bound to her aunt’s will. This was her own fault. She brought this on herself, and she deserved it. Frigga would enter this contract to protect her family and her coven. This was what she was for, after all, even if it meant she was nothing else. Why had she been so senseless as to think of her life as her own? She should have just said “yes ma’am” and been grateful, should have cut her heart off when she had the chance, and she should have shut herself away in the library like always and stopped gazing out her window like a starry-eyed infant. “Yes, ma’am.”

Sapphire smiled and gently held a hand to her heart as she put her teacup back on the table. “Thank you, Frigga. It means so much to me and our coven.”

That was the thing, wasn’t it? Frigga could not come before the lives of eight other families. If she didn’t fulfill her role, the coven’s stability would be at risk, and that stability was hundreds of years worth of work. For her to put it all in jeopardy over something as negligible as her happiness was an embarrassment to her coven and her family. 

“Let’s go to the meeting room,” said her aunt as she stood and offered her hand to help Frigga stand too before she led them to the magical studio. A few items for Rosalind’s succession ceremony were stored in one of its corners for safe keeping as well as a few components for her own succession and wedding, but the spacious room was empty enough. A series of different sized circles were burned into the floor, and Sapphire put Frigga in the centre of them.

The coven’s leader then began reciting incantations to clear the space’s energy, wandering the room with magic lighting up her palms and wafting into the air like smoke. Her voice was low and soft but confident. Usually, Frigga found her aunt’s voice grounding and soothing, but today she barely registered it as her vision began to narrow and her fingers numb.

When Sapphire was content, she stood at the north most point of the circle. The magic in her hands electrified, and she directed it at the edge. She began whispering protective incantations and walking around the inside of the marked circle while her electricity began forming a wall. By the end Sapphire had returned to the top of the circle, they were enclosed in a protective dome of white-blue electricity. This was overkill. Contracts were serious, but a protective circle wasn’t necessary for them unless there was a particular concern about wandering spirits or interference from a third witch. Neither of these things was the case today because who would interfere? Frigga was under her aunt’s authority and at her mercy. Perhaps her aunt was just being thorough, performing the ritual to the letter to ensure maximum efficacy.

Sapphire returned to her niece who looked at the floor, tears dripping over her cheeks and pooling on the wood slats below. Frigga made no moves to dry her tears nor attempt escape when her aunt captured both her hands. White-blue electricity tied their arms together as a rope, painless but tingly.

“Frigga Thorneheart, do you swear to fulfill your duty and take up your role as Heir?”

Must I? Must I really? “I swear.”

“Do you swear you will flee neither before nor after the role has been accepted?”

No, no no no, please! “I swear."

“Do you swear your obedience and loyalty to the Family Thorneheart, all the days of your life?”

“I swear.” Hopefully, those days would be few.

Sapphire’s magical binds slithered to a spot on Frigga’s right forearm, and started to form a brand as if burying itself under her skin. It also wasn’t painful, but felt as if a worm was squirming under the surface of her flesh. “On pain of mundanity and madness, do you submit to this promise? This promise cannot be broken except by your doom or death. Do you accept these terms, Frigga Thorneheart?”

Frigga winced at the writhing sensation, the light at her forearm still glowing as the magic waited for her answer. What did that even mean, mundanity and madness? Not that it mattered, she would go through with her promise because there was no other way. “I accept the terms.” The glowing on her arm faded and became a faint white sigil burned into her skin; the contract was struck, and her life was over.

Sapphire performed the ritual in the opposite direction and the electricity returned to her hand as she closed the circle. It was all just so much fog to Frigga who stared forward yet saw nothing. The tears falling from her eyes weren’t there, the floor wasn’t there, even her aunt was a ghost. Sapphire returned to Frigga and placed a hand on her shoulder. She said something that sounded vaguely like, “I’m proud of you,” and “it will turn out alright, Dear, just wait and see.” There were other things said, but Frigga didn’t hear them. She merely nodded and drifted mindlessly back to her room, closing the door behind her.

The silence rumbled, the weight on her chest magnified, and the jagged edge of what she’d just agreed to, what she’d just done ripped her composure into ribbons. Frigga looked at the mark on her right arm. She’d seen something like this twice before, but both were quite a long time ago. One of them ended as expected, the promise fulfilled, and the other ended incredibly poorly. It was completely impossible to break this contract without incurring grave penalties, some people killed themselves rather than face them.

This was all her fault.

Her breath shallowed, her arms began to tremble, and the world disappeared. She took a step forward. She took another one. And another. There was a strange, arid sensation in her throat, a wild pounding in the back of her eyes, and her lungs couldn’t seem to hold onto air. She breathed faster, tried to close her mouth, to find something to hold onto but stumbled when her three-legged bedside table toppled over from her weight being so suddenly hoisted upon it. 

This was all her fault.

A crash, a thud, Frigga grasped her duvet from her place on the floor and wrenched it from the bed. She threw it. Fuck, what did it matter? It didn’t. None of this bullshit mattered. That sensation in her throat turned into a scream, but it wasn’t Frigga screaming. She started ripping pillows from her bed, books from shelves, until it eventually was no longer enough. She scratched at her arms, her face, but Frigga felt no pain. She wished she could, tried so hard to, kicking and thrashing against arms that had appeared at some point.

This was all her fault.

What was her body even for? What was the point? She needed to do something, anything, because she felt nothing, she saw nothing, she was nothing now. She’d ruined everything for herself and everyone else, destroyed any chance of happiness, not that there had been any chance of it anyway, and it was all her own fault. It was her fault. It was all her fault.

The shrieking and thrashing went on and on, Frigga had no idea how long. An hour? Two? She didn’t care, she wasn’t even really there. Ending up like this was her own fault. She only began settling because her body physically could not keep going. She didn’t stop crying, but her body was so spent that she couldn’t lift her arms or move her legs anymore, her limbs were as heavy as if she’d been running for days.

It was her fault and she was merely reaping her rightful reward.

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